


Weiss Schnee: Lockdown

by Zeroan



Series: RWBY Superhero Universe [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-10 01:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12288402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeroan/pseuds/Zeroan
Summary: Weiss Schnee, heiress of the SDC, Remnant's biggest multi-corporation, is tasked by her father to impress their investors and board members with their newest technology - but her day quickly takes an unexpected when a malicious organization invades her showcase and forces her to make a decision that will change her life forever!





	1. The heiress

At night, seen from up above, the city of Atlas looked almost welcoming. There was no way to tell how cold the streets below were. The lights of twenty-four-hour businesses were deceptive; no one but the criminals, the complicit and the careless stayed out so late in Atlas. It was lonely down there. Lonely and cold.

Atlas was a cold city for cold people. That was the truth of it.

Weiss turned her back to the window of her hotel room and walked past her bed, which she had prepared for sleep hours before. She ought to have been sleeping by now, but she knew lying down would be a fruitless pursuit. She was much too anxious. Besides, she was expecting a phone call any moment now.

She went to her work desk, thinking the best use of her time might be going over her plans for tomorrow. There was no harm in revising one more time, right? It was imperative that everything went flawlessly. But as she looked at the pile of files she had been given, and her own notes, which formed an even bigger pile, her stomach turned uncomfortably. Overpreparing was a risk, she knew. She had never personally suffered from it, but she wasn't keen on testing her luck, not this time.

Inevitably, her eyes wandered to the _Atlas Today_ issue at the far end of the desk, and then darted back swiftly back to her notes, but it was too late now. The image wouldn't disappear so easily from her mind. She had bought the newspaper on a whim, and had quickly regretted it, having spent all day avoiding looking at it. She didn't know _why_ she was so on edge about it.

If her father were there to see…

But he wasn't. Weiss raised her head and looked around, as if making sure he wasn't lurking in the shadows, waiting to catch her in the act. After a moment, she shook her head, laughing quietly about how silly she was being.

Without truly realizing it, she picked up the newspaper and started reading the headline of the first page.

_RED BOLT IN VALE – HOMETOWN HERO EXPANDS HORIZONS?_

The headline was accompanied by a picture, which was what had caught Weiss' eye as she passed by the newsstand before. It showed a street in broad daylight, cars and bikes stuck in a massive traffic jam. The centerpiece, however, was a group of people in balaclavas, running away from something.

That _something_ was what confused her. Right behind the criminals, frozen high above the sidewalk, was a mess of red, black and white, mixed together to make an indiscernible blur. But everything else in the picture was crystal clear – why was that thing so blurry? The only options she could think of were that the newspaper had edited the photo – which she deemed unlikely – or…

Well, it was just that. A blur. Whoever it was – because the article spoke as if it was _who_ , not a _what_ – had been caught by the photographer instants before they reached the criminals. But to go at such speed that you became nearly invisible…

Below the picture was a blurb, then pointers to the rest of the article. It seemed like the newspaper had been working on that piece for a long time.

 _WHO IS the Red Bolt? (pg. 5)_ – _The Red Bolt's SECRET relation to BEACON (pg.7) – SUPERHUMANS, science or myth?, and ramifications (pg. 10)_

Weiss shook her head. Now she knew _Atlas Today_ was just trying to cash in on this new personality's fame. There was only one 'superhuman', and no more. Whoever this _Red Bolt_ was, they didn't have a Semblance-

She dropped the newspaper on the desk, going a little pale. She wasn't supposed to know about that. She was _really_ lucky her father was not with her.

Her phone started ringing on top of her notes. For a moment, Weiss stood frozen, staring at the phone in terror. Then, reaching with a shaking hand, she took it and brought it to her ear.

"Hello, father," she said, assuming a calm, respectful tone of voice, and her posture changed to match it.

" _Weiss_ ," her father answered curtly. " _My apologies for calling so late. My flight to Vacuo suffered from stormy weather. We were forced to make a stop midway through._ "

"It's no matter," Weiss assured. "I was still up anyway."

" _Truthfully, I was hoping you wouldn't answer. But…_ "

There was a disapproving edge to his voice, which was only expected. Weiss faltered a bit, but couldn't help but feel a tad annoyed. If he had been hoping she wouldn't answer, why had he called in the first place? It was almost as if he were looking for something to be disappointed at.

But she didn't say any of that, of course.

"Will that delay cause you any more trouble, father?" she asked, deftly moving past the topic. "You had appointments as soon as you landed, didn't you?"

" _Those were mere formalities. Our Vacuo subsidiaries are desperate for anything that might help them with their animal problem. They'll make time for me, and they'll do so gratefully_ ," he paused. " _I would expect you to understand that, Weiss. As the heir of my company…_ "

"Yes," Weiss said swiftly. "I understand, of course. I was only concerned. You are in Vacuo, after all."

" _Yes. I wouldn't be here unless I needed to. I couldn't send anyone in my stead, least of all you,_ " his tone became even firmer. " _But I must remind you, as important as our Vacuo dealings might be, they are nothing compared to_ your _responsibilities._ "

Weiss nodded, even though he couldn't see. She changed her phone to her other ear, as her hand was getting rather sweaty. Before she next spoke, she had to take a deep breath to push down her anxiousness.

"I understand, father," she said. "I will not let you down, sir."

" _I would hope so. The future of the Schnee Dust Company depends on the reactions of our investors tomorrow. If they are not impressed – if_ you _do not impress them – all the time and money we've spent leading up to this moment will have been wasted_."

He didn't say anything more, but Weiss caught the meaning behind his words quite well. If things went wrong, the SDC would suffer heavy losses. As for her…

"I-I understand," Weiss said, losing her composure, and she knew he noticed. "I should rest…"

" _You should. Good night, Weiss_."

"Good night, father. And good luck with… everything…"

He hung up, not returning her wish. Immediately Weiss knew she had made a mistake. Wishing him _good luck_ , what had she been thinking? Huffing in frustration, she turned off the lights and threw herself on her bed.

For a long time, she simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, wishing she didn't have to shoulder so much responsibility, wishing someone would come to take her place tomorrow, wishing she wasn't so… so…

She ended up not sleeping at all. As dawn broke, she was sitting upright in her bed, reading the newspaper article the fifth time over.

* * *

  **WEISS SCHNEE**

**LOCKDOWN**

* * *

 "Hello! Good morning! I'm so sorry – I lost track of time. You haven't been waiting too long, have you?"

Weiss couldn't make out the pilot's response over the noise of the doors shutting automatically and the plane's engine coming to life. But she thought that, regardless of that, she wouldn't have understood him anyway. It was a fight to keep her eyes open, and she was finding it hard to keep her head high. Staying awake had been a grave mistake, and she knew she was only beginning to pay the price for it.

"The journey won't take long, Miss Schnee," she heard the pilot say beside her. "But feel free to rest on the way there. I won't tell."

Weiss leaned back on her seat and rubbed her forehead. She wanted to take the suggestion, but by now, she thought it was best to just push through. A fifteen-minute nap might just worsen the damage.

"Taking off."

The private plane lifted from the hotel's rooftop and set off eastward. The showcase wouldn't be happening in the city, of course. Some of the technology she would be showcasing today was still too untested to be brought into a highly-populated area. Not only that, but keeping them away from the company's main branches reduced the chances of leaks happening.

The SDC Research and Development Center quickly appeared in the countryside, not far at all from the city. She could have taken a car there, Weiss supposed, but traffic would have been a hassle. And she had a private plane for a reason.

They touched down in front of the facility. Weiss thanked her pilot briefly, then opened her door and exited the plane. A breeze of fresh air brushed against her face, waking her up a bit. She sighed and walked towards the entrance, examining the building absently.

It was an expansive building, with five floors each dedicated to a different branch of the company's focus. There was a peculiar smell in the air, one Weiss had become desensitized to since she had been a child. In small quantities, the smell of Dust was hardly noticeable, but here it was impossible to ignore. It wasn't particularly pleasant, but it wasn't bad either. To Weiss, it always brought forth a sense of urgency and importance.

She spent a lot of time here, now more than ever. Every summer, when she was done with school, her father had insisted on her being here, learning about what was the fundamental backbone of the family company. Much of her education had been arranged towards this, too. She had been a full-time worker here since her fourteenth birthday, practically.

That is, when she wasn't with her father. Sometimes he had her accompany him to meetings and the like, and she didn't like that nearly as much. She always felt like a child among adults, barely keeping up with the business talk and rarely ever contributing. She was there solely because she was the heiress, and she was treated accordingly. In the Center, however, she could hold her own, and her colleagues – or employees, though she tried not to think of them like that – had come to respect her because of it. It wasn't always exciting, and sometimes the pressure got to her, but it felt like home, in a way.

She didn't like to ponder about what that said of her life overall.

Weiss walked through the front door, entering the main hall. It was empty save for the receptionist – some woman she didn't recognize, probably a new hire – as nobody would be coming to work today because of the showcase. Weiss wished that wasn't the case. Having her colleagues nearby would encourage her, and if she made a mistake, they would be of great help.

She started to cross the hall towards the receptionist, but stopped when she heard footsteps behind her, then a warm, familiar voice. "Miss Schnee! You are early. Prepared as ever, I see!"

Weiss turned around and saw none other than Klein Sieben walking towards her. Short and a little over his weight range from having enjoyed too much of his own cooking, he had been the family butler since before Weiss had learned how to walk. The sight of his kindly face made her forget how worried and tired she was.

"Klein!" she said, hugging him briefly. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be overseeing Whitley's morning lessons?"

"Your brother can survive one day without his butler. The boy might even be happy about being rid of me for once, I suspect!" Klein's eyes twinkled as he looked at her. "I thought my presence would be better appreciated elsewhere today."

"I see," Weiss put her hands on her hips. "So father didn't send you here?"

"You are right as ever, Miss Schnee. We should keep this between us, don't you think?"

Weiss nodded, a smile coming to her lips. She hadn't considered it before, but Klein was just who she needed right now. Heading the showcase didn't seem like such a daunting task anymore. And it didn't hurt that he was excellent at organizing things.

"You know what I'm doing today, then?" she asked expectantly.

"Of course. Why, the files detailing the procedures seem to have inexplicably appeared in my cellphone overnight! Rather _mysterious_ , wouldn't you say?" Klein smiled mischievously, pulling his phone out of coat's pocket.

"Very mysterious indeed," Weiss said, playing along. "You wouldn't mind helping me make sure everything is ready, then?"

"Not at all," Klein gave his phone a quick glance. "Your guests should be arriving in a couple hours. Shall we check the – _ahem_ – Knight prototype first? Whatever that is!" his eyes narrowed. "I _certainly_ don't know. Would you care to enlighten an old man?"

Weiss smiled, knowing exactly what Klein was up to. He had read everything about the Knight and everything else she would be presenting. This was an invitation for her to do some last-minute practice, which she was more than glad to take.

"Well, if you insist…" she said, leading him past the receptionist's desk and into an elevator. "The Knight is the latest addition to our trusted line of security…"

* * *

 It took a little more than an hour for Weiss to finish the practice, but she knew the real thing might take thrice as much time. She wouldn't be talking to just one person, after all, and her father's investors, as exemplary businesspeople, were prone to grandstanding and asking questions about the most insufferably minuscule details. It would be tiring, but she wasn't so scared anymore – everything would work out great once she actually got to it, she was certain.

Now she was in the bathroom on the first floor, fixing her appearance. She had done most of the work back at the hotel, but she had noticed her lack of sleep was showing as dark rings around her eyes. It would not do for the investors to see her like that. They cared a lot about that stuff, for whatever reason, and whatever they cared about, her father cared about even more.

Luckily, it was an easy fix. And while she was busy with that, Klein was welcoming the investors and preparing them for the showcase. They would all be arriving in the same plane, provided by the company. Her father was really serious about secrecy, especially these days. She was sure they would complain anyway, but what was she supposed to do about that?

As she leaned over the sink to stare at her reflection from up close, trying to ascertain if she had done enough already, her phone vibrated and moved towards the edge of the sink. Weiss grabbed it hastily, annoyed by the interruption, and glanced at the screen.

_Some unexpected guests. Not on the list. Terribly sorry, Ms. Schnee, but they cannot be turned away._

She lowered the phone a little, frowning. What did Klein mean, _cannot be turned away_? This was a private event. Who had the authority to intrude on that?

The phone vibrated again. _It's Beacon_.

Weiss dropped the phone and sighed in frustration. Beacon! This was the last thing she needed. What did they want? Because, without a doubt, they wanted something. Beacon only showed up when they had a clear objective in mind.

"…It's fine," Weiss took a deep breath. "Let them do whatever. You've got nothing to hide."

For a split second, she began to falter, but she righted herself promptly. Weiss tossed her phone inside her purse and closed it, then raised her chin and stared unblinkingly at the mirror in front of her.

The time for doubt was over.

Now she showed why people respect the name Schnee.

* * *

 Weiss walked into the inner atrium, not batting an eye as the crowd gathered there turned their heads to look at her. She approached them with composed, but confident steps, all the while registering the confusion and outrage that dawned on some of their faces. Still, she gave them no mind.

As she walked, she gave a discreet look to her surroundings. Klein had done as she had asked, concealing everything under black canvases, so she could reveal things as she went. The investors were surely dying to know what was being kept under wraps. She only hoped their impatience wouldn't lead to disappointment.

She reached the crowd and walked around it, coming to stand between them and the first exhibit. As her eyes scanned the crowd, she soon found the intruders Klein had warned her about – a blond woman with her arms crossed sternly, and beside her, a boy, also blonde, who couldn't be much younger than Weiss, looking around restlessly, as if he wished he was anywhere else but there. The contrast between them was uncanny.

Weiss crossed eyes with the woman, but while the stranger's posture grew sterner, Weiss remained impassive. She would deal with these Beacon people later. Frankly, she didn't care if they watched the showcase or jumped off the rooftop. She had more pressing concerns at the moment.

Chief among them being the _other_ unexpected face she saw in the crowd. This one, standing beside General Ironwood, who looked imposing as ever, she recognized. And suddenly, the anxiousness she had been pushing down for hours came rushing back to the surface.

She hadn't seen Winter in more than a year. Her sister had the tradition of visiting her on her birthday, always, but this year she had had to miss it, being too busy with her business with the General. Weiss had thought then, with much sadness, that they wouldn't be seeing each other until her next birthday – more than half a year away from today. And yet here she was, with no forewarning.

She should be happy, Weiss knew, but it was difficult to take the surprise well when it made her job even more unnerving. Making a poor show in front of the investors was bad. In front of Winter? Weiss had to fight herself not to run away, consequences be damned.

Winter looked at the General, as if asking for permission, then looked at her again. She smiled. Not a wide or warm smile. It was almost professional in its nature. But it awakened Weiss to the fact that she had been standing still, staring dumbly, for minutes, it felt like.

Her head snapped up as she turned to face the investors up-front. Hands crossed behind her back. Chin held high. Her panic and fear faded to back of her mind, tucked away for later, as years of rigorous training took over.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Good morning," she spoke, acting as if nothing strange had happened, and as intended, the crowd before her seemed to forget promptly. "I apologize for any inconvenience you might have felt on the way here. We at the SDC like to keep our projects under wraps, as you're well aware, and I'm sure by the end of this little event you will understand why we are taking such rigorous steps to keep secrecy this time," Weiss saw as a few of her listeners grew even more impatient. "Regardless, we thank you for accepting our invitation. I assure you – you won't leave disappointed."

She paused for a moment, trying to place the mood of the investors. Her introductory speech seemed to have appeased most of them. General Ironwood, who had been the first one to accept the invitation, looked very interested. Winter was much the same, though her interest seemed somewhat more personal. The Beacon woman didn't move a muscle – except to kick her companion lightly in the shin as he tried to sneak away.

"Well, then," Weiss said, turning halfway around and putting a hand on the first exhibit's cover. "Let's start with something big, shall we? Let me present to you the newest model in our line of-"

"Excuse me – who the hell are you, again?"

There was a wave of scandalized whispers behind her. Weiss turned slowly and set eyes on her interrupter, recognizing her immediately - Mrs. Marigold, CEO of one of the biggest Dust Mining companies in Atlas. Or so she had used to be.

"Why, we've met before, Mrs. Marigold," Weiss said, keeping a cordial tone of voice. "Several times, if I'm not mistaken."

She waited for a response, but Mrs. Marigold only stared at her crossly. Her cheeks were suspiciously red, as if she had been drinking, but Weiss remembered telling Klein to only bring out the drinks _after_ the presentation.

Weiss turned back, gathering her thoughts, but before she could go on with the presentation, she was interrupted once again by a fake cough.

"Ah, yes. Weiss Schnee. The little _heiress_ , now I remember. I suppose this is a learning experience for you," Mrs. Marigold snickered. "And you'll be _singing_ for us later, yes?"

Weiss froze, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. Of all the things to bring up, that unfortunate singer _p_ _hase_ of hers was the worst. Her father had known she would later regret going public, but had indulged her anyways. A valuable lesson, she supposed.

But that embarrassment didn't last long. A second snicker, accompanied by an awkward chuckle from someone else, caused a cold fury to come over her. This was _her_ presentation, her father was trusting her to represent his company _perfectly_ , and she wasn't going to let anything or anyone stop her from doing so.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Marigold. I was hoping someone would ask – you specifically, to be honest," Weiss turned with a smile. "It's been so long, but you've given me so much inspiration lately… The losses your company have suffered these last years – its inevitable, spiraling downfall, and soon-to-be bankruptcy – and your subtle attempts to cover up your shame by continuing to mingle with people far more relevant than you – yes, I would _love_ to sing about you."

Mrs. Marigold gawked at her, dumbstruck, then looked around, as if expecting someone to come to her defense. No one spoke a word, but the looks on their faces told whom they sided with in this altercation. Weiss noticed with delight as Winter struggled to not smile blatantly.

Lowering her head, Mrs. Marigold shuffled backwards, leaving the front rows to disappear among the crowd. Weiss lifted a hand, beckoning anyone who had questions to come forward now, but she was only met with expectant stares.

"No more questions, then. Excellent," Weiss said, taking hold of the exhibit's canvas behind her and sweeping it off unceremoniously. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is the latest model in our line of Defense and Security Robots. We call this one the Knight."

She gestured, drawing attention to the robot behind her. As she did, it came to life, its visor blinking blue as it turned its head to scan the people around it. The energy rifle in its hand hummed for a brief moment before going silent.

"As you can see, the Knight is much smaller than all its predecessors, but that's not a hindrance at all. The Knight consumes much less energy while boasting a fifty percent increase in effectiveness in _all_ areas," she raised a finger. "Firepower. Vigilance. Defense against programming breaches. Those are all included."

"That's an easy statement to make," General Ironwood said skeptically. "The SDC have lead the automated security market since its inception, but it's difficult to believe that you could improve so much in so little time. It's barely been two years since you revealed the Protector."

"You're correct, General. When we released the Protector, our minimum estimate for a new release was six years," Weiss nodded. "But our team has made an unexpected leap, and it's given a boost to nearly all our biggest products. Trust me, you will understand soon."

The investors didn't look very convinced, but Weiss wasn't discouraged. She had predicted this exact scenario, and was rather banking on it. By the end of the presentation, she would have every one of them more than eager to contribute to the future of the SDC.

But she couldn't get ahead of herself. Step by step, she told herself, as questions about the Knight were sprung on her. She gave a perfect summary of the model's properties, going into the minutest details when needed, and was proud of herself when by the end she hadn't made a single mistake.

Why had she worried so much?

* * *

 After the Knight, the showcase only got easier. She took her guests through every exhibit, answering their questions flawlessly, and not allowing herself to get flustered as their disquiet grew more and more.

Of course they were frustrated. If she were attending another company's event and they tried to sell off so many advancements at once, why, she'd have to laugh at the utter shamelessness at display. People in the business knew it took significant time for any progress to be made on _anything_ , whether new or old – true innovation came sparingly, anything else was stalling.

The second she revealed a new Schnee car model – a market the company had given up on even before her father's time as CEO – was the moment she lost everyone. As she lowered the cover and gestured at the car, the crowd emitted a collective noise of outrage, and one or two gentlemen threatened to leave at once.

"Now, everyone, I can understand why you're skeptical," Weiss said. "But I _assure_ you, if you just let me explain, you'll be sold on the idea."

General Ironwood stepped to the front, staring at her with barely-concealed impatience. Behind him, Winter refused to even look at Weiss. The idea that her sister might be ashamed of her almost had Weiss regretting her strategy for the showcase.

"Miss Schnee, everything you've shown today is fascinating," General Ironwood said, drawing out every word. "But to be frank, they're all empty promises as far as any of us can tell. Nothing you've said until now has convinced me that your father's company is actually capable of delivering on these new technologies."

"Ah," Weiss paused, pretending to be concerned. "That's… true. My apologies," she sighed. "Let me show one last thing, then. If you're not convinced then, I'll understand if you never want to do business with us again."

She bowed her head and lead the guests past a half-dozen concealed exhibits. To be honest, she was glad she didn't have to talk about those, as they were truly insignificant pieces compared to everything before. The plan had been to wait for someone to speak out – which Mr. Ironwood had kindly done now – and these last few things were put there exactly to frustrate her audience. It was rather evil, she had to admit. But it was for the greater good… of the company, if nothing else.

"Right," Weiss stopped in the middle of the atrium, where stood the biggest exhibit, still concealed beneath its black canvas. "This is it, then. Last chance!" she gave a nervous laugh, then pulled the cover off.

The resulting glow made everyone in the crowd flinch and take a step back, covering their faces with their hands. Weiss waited for them to recover, then smiled confidently and gestured to what she had just revealed – a glass globe that was three times her size, supported by a square block of solid steel at the bottom with a digital panel at the front. Inside of it was a shimmering substance that shifted color every few seconds – red, yellow, blue, purple, then red again…

"This," Weiss said. "Is the world's first Dust Energy Core," she joined her hands behind her back and paced in front of the globe, looking disinterested. "It holds enough power to sustain a city the size of Atlas for twenty four hours, or to fuel a small army of Knights," she paused, rubbing her chin. "And, if I'm not mistaken, a Schnee car will run for roughly thirty - or was it forty? - forty years before a recharge, if you hook it up to the Core for… an hour or so," she gestured apologetically. "We haven't finished the tests on that yet, I'm afraid."

Ironwood looked back at Winter, then nodded gravely at the Core. Weiss had a sense he might be thinking it was about to blow up before their very eyes. She didn't blame him for it.

"A Dust Energy Core," he repeated slowly. "And how is this any different than any Dust fuel currently used?"

"First off… Well, it's massive. That's why it could power Atlas for a day," Weiss said. "But that's the least of it. The Core wasn't designed to be just a sheer reserve of energy. It is, most importantly, infinitely and reliably _renewable_."

Winter stepped forward, speaking for the first time. "Renewable Dust?" she frowned. "The last I heard, that had been proven an impossible concept."

"Humanity has known for centuries that Dust is renewable. If it wasn't, it would have run out a long time ago, don't you think?" Weiss gestured around them. "Dust is everywhere, in the air, in the earth, in everything – we just can't see it. The only way we have been able to harvest it has been through Dust crystals, which emerge from the crust of the planet after millennia of shifting tectonic plates and boiling temperatures… until today."

For a moment, no one said a thing. Then someone broke the silence – the last person Weiss had expected to do so.

"That… _thing_ … is harvesting Dust. Right now," Mrs. Marigold's voice rang dry through the atrium. "From everything around us."

"Correct," Weiss nodded.

"Oh," Mrs. Marigold looked positively ill. Maybe she had realized the last nail had just been hammered in her company's coffin.

Weiss snapped her fingers. The Knight she had first presented walked over from the other end of the atrium. When it got to her side, the light on its visor went out, and its body bent forward loosely. Its rifle nearly slipped from its grasp.

"How unfortunate. It seems it has run out of juice."

Weiss went over to the Core and tapped on its panel. It rumbled for a few seconds until it produced a glass cylinder from the side, swirling with yellow Dust. Weiss took it and opened a compartment on the Knight's back, then swapped an old cylinder with the new one. Its visor relighted and it stood to attention, rescanning the room and people around itself.

"There. That should last for a week or two," Weiss said. She faced the investors. "The Dust Energy Core could power everything I've shown you today, at once, a hundred times over, and that would consume all its charge. From then, it would take a mere day to fill it back to completion," she pointed at the Core whilst keeping a focused gaze on her audience. "This is the technology that will power the future. And we're just beginning."

 _Checkmate_.

"Any questions?"

* * *

 The end of the presentation did not bring Weiss any relief. Even as Klein ushered in drinks and food, she was bombarded with questions from nearly all her guests. The reveal of the Core had changed their minds about everything she had shown before, and they were all quite eager to learn more than she could feasibly say. It was so tiring, Weiss almost wished she had let them leave outraged before.

She was in the middle of giving an explanation about some of the Core's intricacies to one of the company's board members, when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder and looked behind her. Weiss stopped mid-sentence, her mouth remaining open as she stared, frozen, at Winter.

"Weiss, if I may have a word."

Weiss blinked, then looked back at the man she had been talking to. "Excuse me. I'll get back to you in a moment." Although he looked disappointed, the man didn't protest, leaving to join a circle of businesspeople drinking nearby.

"Let's go over there," Winter said, nodding subtly to the right. She took Weiss' wrist and walked away from the bulk of the people present. Weiss knew she shouldn't be letting herself be guided like this – she was the host, after all – but she couldn't find the heart to break away.

They came to a stop near a wall. Winter put Weiss in front of her and scanned her up and down, as if appraising a long-lost relic. Weiss started to fidget uncomfortably under her stare, but stopped herself shortly before it got out of control.

"You did a commendable job today, sister," Winter said finally. "I'm not so sure about the method you employed to get these people on your side, but it worked, and very well at that," she paused. "You should be proud."

"T-thank you," Weiss croaked. She lifted her head and spoke again, more clearly this time, "I mean, thank you very much, Winter. Your praise means a lot," she smiled a little. "May I ask what you are doing here?"

Winter looked to the Core, near which stood General Ironwood, still deeply interested in it, or so it appeared. "The General was the first person father invited to this event, and it seems he let slip that you would be hosting it, not him," Winter said. "The General asked if I would like to accompany him, and I accepted, of course."

"Of course," Weiss' smile widened a bit. "I'm glad you're here, Winter. It's been too long."

Winter stared down at her again, and this time there was an obvious warmth in her eyes. She raised a hand to cup Weiss' cheek. Her fingers felt strange, as if there was something invisible, but definitely solid, between them and Weiss' skin.

A chill ran down Weiss' spine. She could almost hear it, the buzzing of the power that emanated from her sister, but she knew she was imagining it. Even so, she suddenly found herself longing… longing for that buzzing… that hidden power…

"Are you okay, Weiss?"

Winter's voice broke her from her stupor. Weiss looked up at her, shaking her head. "I'm fine. I just got lost in thought."

"Let me rephrase that," Winter's gaze hardened ever so slightly. "Have you been okay? As you said… it's been a long time."

Weiss' smile faded. A sharp _no_ rang inside her head, but it didn't come any close to escaping into spoken words. She had been trained, by tutors and by herself, to hold back, to choose carefully before she spoke.

"Yes, everything's been fine. More than fine, really," Weiss said. "Today's the evidence of that. We've been working so hard for so very long. It's great to finally share some of what we've accomplished with other people."

"I didn't ask about work," Winter said. Her words struck like a slap. Weiss took a step back, then started looking around, searching frantically for something, anything to focus on, to help her escape this conversation…

And there they were. The Beacon agents, who had remained silent through the entire showcase. The woman was now eyeing her companion very disapprovingly as he grabbed a handful of cheese cubes from a passing waiter and stuffed them in his mouth, munching nervously.

"Who are they?" Weiss wondered aloud.

"Ah. I'm afraid I'm not the only one the General let know about the showcase and your hosting," Winter said. "He's in the World Council, so he has close relations with Beacon."

"Why did he tell them?" Weiss asked, unable to stop her bitterness from showing in time. "Nevermind. I'll go ask them personally."

Winter looked troubled. "If you so wish. But mind how you speak to them, sister."

Weiss only half-registered that remark, already marching towards the Beacon agents. The woman noticed her approach first, but didn't have much of a reaction. On the other hand, when her companion noticed, he choked on his cheese cubes and tried to hide from view – and quite fruitlessly at that.

"Miss Schnee," the woman said politely, turning to face her. "I'm happy you've finally decided to come greet us," she extended a hand. "Glynda Goodwitch, Commander and Sub-Director of Beacon."

"Nice to meet you," Weiss shook her hand only as shortly as was acceptable. "And your… _friend_?"

The boy choked again and turned away. Goodwitch's expression fell for a brief instant before she recomposed herself. "This is Agent Jaune Arc. He's…" she paused, as if the next part was particularly difficult to say. "… _shadowing_ me on this assignment. He's… quite green."

"That is evident, Commander," Weiss stared at the choking agent for a moment, not sure whether she was more stunned or disgusted by the sorry display, before facing Goodwitch again. "And what brings the Sub-Director of Beacon here?" her eyes narrowed. "I don't recall anyone from Beacon being sent an invitation."

"We're not answering an invitation. Director Ozpin sent me here for a very specific reason, and it just so happened that today was the best date for me to fulfill that order," Goodwitch grinned. "And I had the privilege of learning all about the advancements your company has been making. I was very lucky, indeed."

"Right," Weiss sighed, running out of patience fast. "What do you want, then? Something about our research, I'm sure. You've found something to be _concerned_ about – instead of being concerned with real problems, such as the White Fang."

"You're close. We _have_ suspicions of some very concerning research happening in this building, but, as far as we know, neither your father nor your colleagues know anything about it," Goodwitch paused. "Unlike you."

Weiss' heart skipped a beat. The room around her was becoming an indiscernible mess of lights and colors, everything except Glynda Goodwitch and the recovering Jaune Arc.

"You have your own private lab, don't you, Miss Schnee?"

"I… I do," Weiss replied mechanically. No! Why had she said that? Why hadn't she lied? But there was no point… Goodwitch knew, Beacon knew, lying would be useless – no, it would only make everything worse.

"Good. Agent Arc, you'll accompany Miss Schnee to her lab and inspect it thoroughly for what I've told you about," Goodwitch said. "Understood?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," Jaune stood a little taller, but he still looked very uncomfortable. "But why me? I thought…"

"I have something I'd like to discuss with James Ironwood and his companion," Goodwitch explained, looking at him firmly. "Don't panic and you'll do fine, Arc. Miss Schnee will cooperate fully, I'm sure."

Jaune didn't look very reassured, but he didn't dare say another word. Goodwitch stared at him for a while longer, then started walking towards Ironwood and Winter. She stopped shortly, however, to throw a last look back at Weiss.

"Miss Schnee, I hope you understand…" she said quietly. "Semblance research is banned for a reason. Replication… well… Let's hope our suspicions are unfounded."

Weiss stood still, staring at Goodwitch's back as she walked away. Her mind had gone completely blank. Like a short-circuited machine, she couldn't process a single thought anymore.

Everything had been going so well. Why now? _Why now_?

"So, err…" Jaune spoke up, standing next to her. "Let's get going…?"

"…Yes," Weiss said slowly. "Fourth floor. We'll take an elevator."

"Cool," he gulped. "I like elevators. Lead the way."

There had to be a way out of this.

* * *

 Back in the entrance hall, the SDC Research and Development Center's newest hire hung back in her chair, feet up on the receptionists' desk. She had been filing her fingernails for the past half hour, and there was hardly anything more she could work on anymore.

Waiting was always the hardest part. She should have been accustomed to it by now, but she couldn't help who she was. A girl needed action, especially after so many months of planning.

Just a little more… Soon, it would be time…

Her phone buzzed on the desk. She leaned forward and took it in her hands, grinning in delight as she read the message on the screen.

_In position. Reply when job is done._

Yes! Eager, she took a flash drive from her pocket and inserted it on the computer beside her. After a few seconds, the screen flashed white, and suddenly the desktop was replaced by a still image of a bowl hat and a cane.

The Protector guards near the entrance whirred to life and looked at her. Their visors went from blue to red. A steel screen lowered from the ceiling, blocking the way outside.

This wasn't happening everywhere, of course. It would not be good if today's victims were alerted ahead of time by shutting doors and traitorous robots… No, the virus was progressing methodically, all according to the plan. For example, the backdoor entrance to the building was still open now, which was where her friends would be coming in from.

She took her phone and typed a message swiftly. _Ready, boss. Party time!_

Leaving her chair, she grabbed the top of her wig and removed it from her head, letting brown and pink locks of hairs cascade over her shoulders and down her back. She drew a hidden knife from her belt, then jumped over the counter and walked off in the direction of the inner atrium.

Today was going to be so much fun!


	2. Space comes undone

Weiss didn't speak a word to Jaune as she lead him through the facility, making a beeline for the nearest elevator. The sooner they got to her lab, the better, or so she figured. Delaying the inevitable would only make matters worse – at least this way she gave the appearance of being helpful, even though she was only doing this out of obligation.

Really, how could this be happening? She had always made sure she was alone when working on the experiment, and had kept only a single digital recording of it, which she kept secure on her person always. Not only that, but it had been months since she'd last worked on it. How did Beacon know? Were they spying on the company – or _her_ , in particular?

No. They had no reason to be spying on her. She must have been less careful than she had thought and someone had reported her. Someone she worked with regularly, who had access to the fourth floor. She was quite _eager_ to find out the culprit once this mess was over.

That is, if she didn't suffer heavy repercussions. But even if they tried to throw her behind bars or something like that, Weiss had her father to help her. Although…

Would he help her when he found out?

Weiss was so absorbed in her thoughts she nearly missed the elevator she'd been heading for. She called it and, within seconds, they were in. "Fourth floor, please."

The voice recognition software beeped, and the doors closed. The elevator slowly started its ascension.

"So, uh," Jaune said, his voice shattering the silence like a brick through glass. "…Is your hair, like, natural?"

Weiss had to struggle to keep an impassive expression. She had imagined a lot of things Jaune might have said, but this was far from one of them.

"Yes," she replied, keeping a cordial tone. "Yes, it is."

"Oh, okay. Just wondering, you know… 'cause it's not like a lot of young people have white hair," Jaune said, and immediately his face went deathly pale. "I don't mean – it's not like – it's very pretty, that's what I mean!"

Weiss didn't spare him a glance, much less a response. She had the impression Jaune didn't speak to women often. Or anyone at all. Her only course was to ignore him and hope he didn't try again.

"Sorry," Jaune gulped audibly. "I just made this very awkward, didn't I?"

"It's alright," Weiss said. Things had been already been awkward before, he had just added to it.

Maybe this was a good thing, though. If Goodwitch were the one accompanying her, she would be doomed. But Jaune… he wasn't very bright, that much was clear. And if she played her cards right…

"But thank you," she gave him the briefest of smiles, running a hand through her hair. "It runs in the family."

"I, uh, noticed," Jaune said. "Not that I was staring at your sister or anything," he paused. "You know what, I think I'll just keep quiet from now on."

Yes, maybe she had a shot at getting out of this predicament without consequence, after all.

* * *

 

Weiss's leaving the inner atrium had done nothing to lessen the guests' excitement over the new technologies they'd been shown. Every businessperson in the room was still fawning over the Dust Reactor Core or the other exhibits, no doubt wondering what was the best bet to put their money on. This would be a very profitable day for the SDC, it seemed.

Glynda Goodwitch paused on her way to the General, looking at the Reactor taking up the center of the room. It was an awesome technology, capable of changing the energy infrastructure of the entire world. In years, it could mean the stagnation, and perhaps end, of pollution.

But as she looked at the Dust that floated within that glass container, she saw only the horrors it would no doubt bring. Glynda had been alive long enough to know that all new technologies' first application wasn't to the common good, but to war in all forms. She imagined the weapons that would come from this scientific revolution… and she wished Dust perpetuity had remained a mystery.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. The science had been solved, and it would soon spread from this room to the rest of the world. The effects were inevitable. But she would make a point of bringing the matter up to the Director later, and hopefully they would be able to put some kind of plan in action.

She shook her head and approached the General. He was looking at an energy rifle model on display, but she knew he was only waiting for her to come talk to him. His companion was nearby, close enough to hear, but far enough to be polite.

"James," she said, stopping at his side.

"Glynda. What a pleasant surprise," he lifted a glass of rum on his right hand and took a sip. "I didn't expect you to make an appearance here."

"Didn't you?" she asked. How typical of him, acting as if his actions were a happy accident, and not at all carefully planned.

"When I told you about this event, I didn't in any way mean it as an invitation," James took another sip. "Of course, it's up to you and Ozpin where you go, but…"

"You think Jacques Schnee won't be happy with you when he learns you spoke to Beacon about this," Glynda waved dismissively. "Fortunately, we all have to arc with the consequences of our actions."

James lowered his glass and leaned forward, as if inspecting a detail on the rifle. Then, he spoke again. "I am sure Jacques would have invited the Director himself if Beacon weren't so uncooperative."

"Uncooperative? Really, James?" Glynda scoffed. "Beacon doesn't exist to serve multi-billionaire companies. We have bigger, more important things on our radar. You, of all people, should understand that."

"I would never suggest Beacon serve the SDC, but the White Fang…" James looked at her gravely. "You have done nothing about them. Frankly, it's not only the SDC that's frustrated with you. _Other_ people are getting tired of your lax attitude."

"Perhaps those people should change _their_ attitude, then."

Glynda looked away, signaling that this was the end of that conversation. Her eyes fell once again on his companion. James followed her gaze, and nodded for the young woman to come close.

"Sir," Winter Schnee came over, bowing her head politely. "Commander."

"Miss Schnee. It's been too long," Glynda said, smiling a little. "How have you been enjoying your time serving under James? He hasn't been pushing you too hard, has he?"

"It's been an honor to serve the General and my country, ma'am," Winter said stiffly. "To be honest, I believe he pushes me too little. I could use harder work more often."

"The issue is not with the work. It's with her, you see," James smirked. "Winter is an extraordinary woman. No matter what task I assign her, she'll accomplish it to perfection, oftentimes better than even I could have done. That's why she's risen so quickly through the ranks," he sighed. "Honestly, I'm starting to become scared for my position."

"None of that comes as a surprise to me. We've known how extraordinary you are for a long time," Glynda looked at Winter seriously. "Forgive me for bringing this up again, but…"

"My answer remains the same, Commander," Winter interrupted.

"Of course. You really are loyal to James…"

"Actually, ma'am," Winter's voice carried a cold edge. "The General has nothing to do with my decision."

Glynda shook her head. It never failed to amaze her how far the Schnees could take a grudge. Years after being disowned, Winter still shared her father's view on Beacon. Not even James' influence had been able to change that.

"Well, the offer is always there, if you'll take it," Glynda said. "Moving on. James, I'm sure you don't share the same concerns, but what we've seen today-"

She was interrupted by a deafening noise, like something inordinately heavy had fallen somewhere close. The lights in the atrium went out, then flicked back on a moment later. Glynda looked around and saw that the exit at the end of the atrium, the one that lead outside where the SDC's jet was waiting to transport everyone back to the city, was now blocked by a steel screen several inches thick.

"What the hell?" James asked, his voice carrying over the general uproar of the high-class people around them. "Something's off. Winter, get ready with your-"

"Hehey! Welcome, everyone!" a new voice rang through the atrium.

Glynda turned swiftly, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. That voice! It couldn't be…

But it was. Roman Torchwick, who she had captured just a year ago, had just walked into the room, followed by a procession of his trademark shades and black coat-wearing thugs. Half of them were carrying high-caliber rifles in their hands.

"Wait, that's not right. Why am I welcoming them? I'm not their host," Torchwick swung his cane upward, poking his chin a couple times with the end of it, then swung it dismissively to the side. "It doesn't matter! We're all about to have a good, educative time, everyone! Forget the long faces, cheer up!"

"It's Roman Torchwick!" a businesswoman screamed, diving to the floor with her hands on her head. "We're all dead!"

"Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I like her spirit," Torchwick said. "All of you, follow her example! Knees down, hands up! Just like prom."

In a matter of seconds, everyone was on the ground with their hands on their heads, not daring to even whisper to each other. The only ones that remained standing were Glynda, James, and Winter.

Torchwick looked across the atrium over the kneeling people, and his eyes instantly locked on Glynda's. For a moment, his face was red like a tomato, but then he smiled widely and walked ahead, skirting around the crowd.

"Now what a surprise! We meet once again, Commander!" he exclaimed jovially, spinning his cane on one hand. "I must say, you still look as wonderfully young and unfun as ever! It feels like it was just yesterday when you captured me and I made my valiant escape!"

"You killed three Beacon agents, you psychopath," Glynda said through gritted teeth. She wanted to reach for her gun, concealed on her belt, but the numbers were against her – for now. "Don't smile at me. Don't joke. Just say what you want."

"I thought it was obvious! Look around, Commander!" Torchwick spun in place. "This is a thief's wonderland, and I'm the biggest thief of all! And this time," he faced her again, smiled, this time without any humor, and whispered, "This time, you don't have Red to save the day for you."

Glynda pursed her lips. On the corner of her vision, she saw Winter take a step forward, but James blocked her with his arm. He nodded to her, and both got on their knees.

"Splendid. Now, Commander… if you so please…"

For a moment, Glynda simply stood in front of Torchwick, her professional mind telling her to go along with whatever he said, while the smaller, yet just as loud, rebel side of her told her to fight back.

Then, without a word, she kneed and put her hands on her head.

"Ah, sweet victory," Torchwick turned his back to her and gestured to his thugs. "Now, my friends – let's get this show on the road!"

* * *

 

"So, you were, like, a singer? Or was that woman just being mean?"

Weiss held back a sigh as she walked through the hallways of the fourth floor, heading towards the lab. Jaune was following right behind her, and had already forgotten about saying that he would remain quiet, which she very much disliked.

"Yes, I was. For a short while," Weiss answered, not looking back at him.

"Like, in a band?" Jaune asked.

"Solo. But I played the piano too."

"That's cool," Jaune frowned. "How did it work out, though? You seem like a busy person, what with being the heiress and a scientist and… all those things you are which I definitely didn't forget to read up about…"

"It didn't work out. I stopped doing music. Released a short album and was done," Weiss paused, wondering if she should add more. Much as she hated it, her objective _was_ to distract Jaune. The more personal she got, the better. "My father believed my duties to the company were more important than any teenage pursuits like that."

"That sucks," Jaune said.

Weiss had to admit to herself, she didn't hate that response. She was almost glad for it. "He was right, of course. But, yes… it sucked. But I'm past that now."

"You never think of trying that out again? I mean, it's not like he can stop you. You're an adult…"

Weiss was grateful she didn't have to respond to that, as they had finallyd arrive at the door to her lab. But her relief didn't last long, for she realized this meant the moment of truth had come. The next ten minutes could very well decide how she spent the rest of her life…

Like ripping off a bandage, Weiss opened the door fully and entered the lab in one movement, going over to the center in a stride. The place was just as she'd left it a week ago. There was equipment and books scattered all over the desks, and some of the cupboards above were open wide and empty. Weiss scowled. She was never so disorganized normally, always making sure everything was tidy and proper when she was done for the day, but the last week had had her hurrying about everywhere in preparation for the showcase, and she'd had no time to be so neat.

"I'm sorry for the mess," Weiss said, doing a quick scan of the books on display. Luckily, there was nothing incriminating about them – not that she'd been expecting there to be, but she could never be too safe… "So, what do you want to see? If you'll tell me, it'll make the search that much easier."

She turned to face Jaune, batting her eyelashes twice for good measure, all the while kicking herself mentally. Weiss felt like one of those terrible woman characters in blockbuster movies, only getting their way by using their charms or whatever nonsense the writers came up with… but her career was at stake here, so what else was she supposed to do?

"Yeah, you're supposedly experimenting with 'Semblances'," Jaune looked away sharply. "As far as we know, it's some kind of serum. You were working on it in this lab. So…"

Weiss cursed silently. Her tactic had backfired disastrously, only causing Jaune to become much more focused on his actual job, instead of asking useless questions like before. Clearly, being alone in the room with her like that was too much for him.

"Semblances?" she leaned against a desk, frowning cutely. "I don't know what those are."

"I'm pretty sure you do. They're like superpowers," Jaune said matter-of-factly. "…Your sister has a Semblance."

"Oh, yeah," Weiss looked towards the ceiling, her face going red. "I… just remembered."

"You _just remembered_ your sister has superpowers?"

Weiss let go of the desk and paced away, frustrated. Was Jaune playing her? Had it all been an act to get her to incriminate herself like that? Or was he really as gullible as she thought he was?

"Look," she said, turning around, wearing a straight face. "Yes, I do know what a Semblance is. But I haven't done any experiments. I have studied the phenomena and how it might be replicated, but that's as far as I went. Can you believe that?"

"We have evidence that you _have_ done experiments, though," Jaune said, his expression blank. "I'm not judging you or anything, that's just the truth."

"Oh, really? And how would you know?" Weiss glared at him, losing her patience. "Has Beacon been spying on me, is that it? Because if not, I can't fathom how you know so much!"

"I am, err… not permitted to disclose that information?" Jaune declared, like that was a phrase he had rehearsed previously. "I'm just trying to do my job," he blinked. "The serum should be in that drawer over there, by the way."

Weiss spun around, following his finger to where it was pointing. She went over to the drawer and opened it, freezing when she saw the familiar metal case inside it, like the bloody evidence of a crime scene.

"I'm right, then?" Jaune asked hesitantly. "Just, uh, bring it over and open it. I need to make sure we didn't make a mistake."

Weiss felt like everything had slowed down dramatically as she picked up the case and turned around, bringing it over to a desk between her and Jaune. She stared down at it, her fingers twitching near the latch that would unlock it. Then, with a sting of penetrating cold fury, she let go and went around the desk. The next second, she had Jaune pressed against the wall, holding him by the collar of his uniform.

"You _have_ been spying on me," she hissed. "How _dare_ you. Just wait until my father and General Ironwood hear about this. It's a blatant _abuse_ of power by Beacon and I'll make you pay for it dearly. _You_ , in particular, _Jaune Arc_ ," she drew her face very close to his, their noses almost touching. "You think I'm cute? Let's see what you think of me when I'm done destroying your life."

When the last word left her mouth, a suffocating silence filled the room. Weiss stared at Jaune, waiting for a reaction, but he only stared back, shaking, and as she looked into his eyes, her mind raced back in time, and a feeling of horror overwhelmed her.

She had seen those eyes before, when someone was being fired, or their business was being threatened, or when someone was forced to take the fall for another's mistake. Every time, those eyes had been aimed at her father.

Except now.

Weiss let go of Jaune, and just as she did, the lights in the lab and in the hallway outside went out. Suddenly in the dark, they could only see the faintest outline of the other. Weiss walked backwards, reaching out with her hand until she found the edge of a desk.

"W-what's going on?" Jaune asked, any hint of him being a professional Beacon agent gone from his voice. "Power outage? O-or are you gonna k-kill me now?"

"Maybe," she said, then did a double take. "I mean, maybe it's a power outage. But I can't remember the power ever going out here. We have safeguards set up to stop anything like this from happening."

She heard a rustling noise outside, like metal grinding against metal, then a heavy step. Weiss looked at the door and saw a faint red glow through its glass panel. It grew brighter and brighter, and eventually it allowed her to see Jaune again, still pressed against the wall, terrified.

A tall silhouette appeared on the other side of the door. Slowly, its head turned, and the room was showered in red. Weiss raised a hand in front of her eyes and parted her fingers just enough to see through. The red glow started to fade, its spread narrowing, until it was focused solely on her.

" _Intruder detected._ "

Realizing what was about to happen, Weiss threw herself to the floor, hiding behind the desk. She heard the door being ripped from its hinges, then saw it hit the wall across from her. Her eyes widened and she started forward, going for another desk, but suddenly she was hoisted off the floor by a cold, metallic hand. Her lungs emptied as she was slammed down onto the desk, facing the ceiling and the red visor of the Protector.

" _Maximum offense levels recognized. Commencing immediate termination protocol._ "

"No! Stop!" Weiss gasped, beating the side of the robot's head with the knuckles of her right hand, but it did not nothing but hurt her. "I order you – to stop!"

" _Resistance detected. Order enforcement boundaries overridden._ "

Weiss tried to rise, but the Protector pushed her back down, closing a hand around her throat. She clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them apart, but she was no match to the robot's strength. The back of her head hit the desk as she spread her mouth wide, trying to take in any amount of air, but it was useless. Dark dots appeared in front of her eyes, and she knew with a sudden clarity that there was nothing she could do but accept her fate.

But as her eyes started closing, the Protector jerked to the right as a shape collided against it. Its hand left her throat, and Weiss rolled off the desk and onto the floor, gasping for air. On her knees, she looked up and saw Jaune, showered in red, slam his whole body against the Protector, sending it sprawling backwards. Its midsection hit the edge of a desk, and it toppled over with a loud crash.

"Override that!" Jaune yelled, out of breath.

"It's not – not out –" Weiss croaked, standing up slowly, her knees buckling. She started towards Jaune and grabbed his wrist, intend on escaping the room, but suddenly the Protector was up again and standing in their way.

Weiss looked up at it, and any fighting spirit left in her drained away. The robot was twice her size and ten times stronger. She couldn't as much as put a dent in it. She took a step back, her eyes darting around the place in desperation. There had to be _something_ she could use to get them out of here…

Her eyes went to the desk right beside her and the metal case still lying upon it. For a moment, her mind went on a wild trip where she opened it and used the serum inside, and just like that, she _was_ strong enough to beat the Protector.

But a second later, she was back in the real world, and her hands closed on the case's handle. She yelled and swung the case around, slamming it against the side of the Protector's head. The robot's neck bent nearly ninety degrees, exposing wires and spurting oil, and suddenly sparks filled the air. The light of its visor went out, and a moment later, it crumpled to the floor.

Weiss stared at the darkness where the Protector lay, breathing hard. Suddenly, she noticed she was still holding Jaune's wrist and let go, putting several paces between the two of them.

"Holy crap," Jaune said. "That was awesome!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down, you reckless oaf!" Weiss hissed. "There could still be-"

She stopped speaking when she saw the hallway become red again. She looked at Jaune and opened her eyes wide, trying to communicate with him silently, and thankfully he joined her when she sat behind a desk. They pressed their backs against it and held their breaths as a red light scanned the room, focusing on the fallen Protector for a moment. A minute later, it left, and they heard heavy footsteps ringing away from the lab.

Weiss turned around and peeked over the desk. "It's gone. Don't move yet, there are more on this floor."

"Oh that's great," Jaune whispered. "Is it normal for your robots to try to kill you?"

"Is it normal for you to make such vapid questions?" Weiss glared at him. "I don't know _what_ is happening, but I intend to find out."

Weiss looked around, trying to discern anything of use in the dark room. She wished she had her phone with her, but it was in her purse, which she'd put away before the showcase. At least she could take some comfort in the thought that, with the ways things were going for her, she'd probably get no signal anyway.

"We need to get back to the atrium. Do you have a light with you?" Weiss asked.

"I do," Jaune said. A moment later, he held up a phone-like device in his right hand, lighting a small radius around them. "How are we gonna get to the ground floor? The elevators are probably dead, and… did I mention the killer robots?"

"Don't you have something you can use against them? Like a gun or something?" Weiss asked.

"I wish! Commander Goodwitch doesn't trust me with weapons," Jaune frowned. "Why did I just tell you that?"

Weiss chose to ignore his last remark. "We'll have to be quick and clever," she looked at him critically. "You can manage the first at least, I trust?"

"Yeah, sure," Jaune said, with a remarkably unsure tone of voice.

Weiss got up. She listened for any strange noises outside, but there was only silence. She moved to the doorway, followed closely by Jaune, and he shone the light carefully to both sides of the hallway in turn. No Protectors or anything out of the usual.

Perhaps wanting to regain some semblance of courage Weiss never thought he'd had, Jaune stepped out first. He gulped, looking back at her over his shoulder. "So, uh, I know this isn't really that important considering the trouble we're in… But I still have a job to do, okay? So if you could get that case and take it with you…"

Weiss paused, looking at him in astonishment. "Are you serious? We almost got killed just now and are still very much in danger, and you're worried about _that_?"

"Hey, it's my job. Commander Goodwitch is counting on me!" Jaune said. "Besides, you whacked that robot pretty good with the case back there. Maybe you can do that again if any more try to kill us."

For the first time, Weiss felt some admiration for Jaune. Annoying as it was for her, his dedication to his job was commendable, even if the way he was going about accomplishing it was rather lacking. Maybe having him by her side wasn't so bad after all - sure, she'd rather have just about anyone else, but he was better than nothing.

"Fine." Weiss went back into the room and found the desk she'd left the case at. She stared at it for a moment, running a finger on its locks. She had to admit, she was glad Jaune had asked her to go back for it.

It was a thought that was as terrifying as it was exciting, but… she had a feeling she was going to need what was inside it.

* * *

 

Winter Schnee was, to put it mildly, not happy. She had meant for today to be an opportunity to reconnect with her little sister, to give her some guidance which, though she might not yet realize, she was very much in need of. Maybe, she had thought, by the end of today, her family could start being whole again – the family she _wanted_ , that is.

Yet here she was, kneeling on the cold floor of a building she'd swore never to put a foot on again, held at gunpoint by the most annoying terrorist in the world and his fan club. She was positively _shaking_ with rage, but she couldn't act on it, not when so many innocent people were at risk.

If only he would stop _talking_ … If he didn't, Winter feared she wouldn't be able to restrain herself anymore, consequences be damned.

"I must say, the Schnees really have outdone themselves this time!" Torchwick said loudly as he fidgeted with the arms of the Knight prototype on its stand. The robot had been deactivated when the lights had first gone out, and its rifle had fallen out of its hold, to lay on the floor uselessly, outside of anyone's reach.

"I remember when I was stealing Schnee toasters… Simpler times, simpler times… But I'm not complaining!" he patted the Knight on the shoulder, causing it to incline dangerously to the right. "This stuff is going to make me a fortune. Not to mention whatever more they have hidden in this golden egg of a building."

He made the Knight stand up straight again and smiled, seemingly pleased with himself. He gestured for two of his men and they took the robot, carrying it between them out of the room. Almost half of the exhibits were gone by now.

"Speaking of Schnees!" Torchwick exclaimed, spinning around to face Winter. He walked to her, smiling, and bent forward a little. "I've just remembered… One of them was supposed to be overseeing this little shindig. A girl. But I don't _think_ you're her… are you?"

Winter just glared at him. Beside her, General Ironwood shook his head discreetly. Winter took a deep breath, centering herself – it wasn't just these people's lives that were at stake, but her sister's too.

"Perhaps I am," she said, tilting her head a little. "I would think a man as prepared as you would be able to distinguish us from one another."

"True. Forgive me, I don't mean to offend, but to me, you high-class folk all look identical," Torchwick said.

"I understand the feeling," Winter smirked. "I have quite the difficulty telling apart filthy vagabonds such as you. Although to call you just a vagabond might be a compliment."

"Charming," Torchwick rolled his eyes. "I suppose it doesn't matter where the girl is, as long as she doesn't interfere. But maybe you should start praying she's just hiding, and that nothing _bad_ has happened to her."

Winter closed her fists, but didn't make a move. Torchwick held her stare for a moment, then chuckled and walked away, turning his back to her.

"You did good, Winter," Ironwood whispered. "We can't afford to make him angry. There's nothing we can do in this position but wait until he's done. We'll have our payback another day, but first we must make sure everyone gets out alive and unharmed."

"If I had Dust with me, I could take out him and his people. If only we had known something like would happen," Winter said dryly. She shook her head, regretting her unprofessional attitude. "Forgive me, sir. You are right about our course of action. We can only be patient."

"In this situation, I would prefer you don't apologize," Ironwood gave her a significant look. "I am sure your sister is fine," he frowned. "But you bring up a good point. We couldn't have known this would happen, but… how did Roman Torchwick know about this event? Does he have a man inside the SDC?"

"I doubt it, unless it's someone very high up the chain," Winter said. "My father is very strict about who knows what inside his company. Judging by today's secrecy measures, I doubt anyone but Weiss and the ones invited knew."

"Hmm. A question for another day."

Winter heard shuffling beside her. Glynda Goodwitch had remained silent since they had been forced to kneel, ceaselessly inspecting the room and Torchwick, as if she were formulating a deeply-layered plan. Normally, Winter didn't like that kind of look on a Beacon agent's face, but under current circumstances, she quite welcomed it.

"Miss Schnee," Glynda spoke quietly, her eyes still not leaving Torchwick's back. "If you'll work with me, I can assure you will see your sister again by the end of today, unharmed. I need only a distraction."

Winter looked at the General. After a moment's consideration, he nodded approvingly.

"Torchwick has done nothing about my Semblance. He must not know about it," Winter said. "But I'm afraid I'm ill-equipped to face so many people at once, at least for the moment."

"You mentioned you need Dust," Glynda said. "I can get you some."

Ironwood rose an eyebrow at that. "You brought Dust with you?"

"The only Dust I'm carrying is for my gun," she nodded towards the Core. "What are the chances that glass can resist a heavy Dust cartridge?"

"You want to blow open that thing?" Ironwood asked through gritted teeth. "Are you mad, Glynda? We don't know what might happen! It could obliterate everything in a mile radius around it, including _us_!"

"Actually, sir… if my theory is sound, that Dust is not like the one we, or anyone, for that matter, are used to," Winter said. "Before crystallization, it should be in a pure state, which means, _if_ we released it from its containment, with _perfect_ timing, it wouldn't do us any immediate harm," she paused. "I've never tried using Dust in that state, but it shouldn't be any different than normal."

Ironwood looked from her to Glynda, quickly realizing he was in the losing part of the argument. "Well. You have never failed me before, Winter. I'm trusting you with this."

Winter nodded gratefully. She heard the muffled cocking of a gun and turned to face Glynda again. The Commander turned her hand, giving her a glimpse of a Dust pistol, before hiding it from view again.

"Tell me what I'm aiming for," Glynda said.

"Look at the Core," Winter directed. "The Dust is changing attributes every few seconds – red, yellow, blue, purple, then it returns to red, and so on. It's a predictable pattern. Memorize it, and when it's purple – that's your timing."

"Purple," Glynda mused. "Why Gravity?"

"Because I'd rather not try handling pure Dust for the first time with Fire or Electricity," Winter answered. "I can give you a maximum of five minutes."

"That's more than enough."

Glynda went silent and, for the next couple minutes, only stared at the Core. Winter waited patiently, preparing to activate her Semblance at an instant's notice. Torchwick hadn't noticed anything amiss yet, too busy admiring the equipment he was so happy to be stealing, and neither had any of his minions.

Finally, Glynda rose to her feet, raising her pistol in the same motion and pointing it at the Core. The gun emitted a low, whirring noise, then shot a sparking red projectile. It collided against the glass, behind which the Dust was, to Winter's alarm, still yellow.

For a moment, Winter thought the Commander had made a terrible miscalculation – but then the glass started to turn red where the projectile had landed, and the Dust had changed to blue – and when the glass finally shattered, the Dust was purple.

The sharp noise made Torchwick turn in fright, and Winter got up, bringing her arms up in front of her – but suddenly she was back on her knees, as if the weight of a car was pushing down on her, while at the same time she felt as light as a feather. Through hazy vision she saw Ironwood was in nearly the same state, as was everyone in the room, except Glynda. The Commander had somehow remained on her feet, though the effort was strenuous on her body, if her pained expression was any indication.

For some reason, the sight of Glynda pressing on reinvigorated Winter, giving her the strength to stand up again. Maybe it was a reminder that she was being counted on, or maybe she simply didn't want to be outdone. Regardless, she managed to raise her arms again, pointing her palms forward, and conjured a Glyph in front of her.

The circle of light hovered in the air, slowly spinning clockwise, colorless. Then, Winter closed her eyes and focused – on the crushing pressure, on the flight she could take with a single leap, on the warping of space that was happening all around her – and suddenly, the room had gone back to normal.

General Ironwood groaned in relief, and the hostages released similar cries. Most of Torchwick's men remained on the floor, regaining their breath and balance, while some struggled to get up and aim their guns. The mastermind himself recovered astonishingly quickly.

"What was that?!" he screamed, rising laboriously. "Who the hell pulled that-"

He was struck silent by the sight of Winter and her Glyph. It was purple now, glowing so brightly it was nearly blinding, and as she turned her fingers like claws, it became smaller and smaller. Manipulating it was proving to be an effort even harder than she had thought. She knew that just one tiny mistake would lead to disaster for everyone around her.

"A-alright, now," Torchwick spoke, backing away with his hands in the air. "I know things look pretty bad for you, yeah, but isn't that _kind of_ an exaggeration? Surely, we can resolve this peacefully! Right, General?"

Ironwood rose beside Winter, smiling humorlessly. "Winter. Give him hell."

Winter turned her fingers one last time, then joined her hands together. The Glyph shrank to the size of an apple. Releasing her breath, she separated her hands, then tapped a palm to the back of the Glyph.

She felt an incredible force course her body, directly proportional to the power she was unleashing – and she fell backward, eyes closed. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of the General's arms behind her back.

At the same time, a barrage of purple energy shot from the Glyph, surging towards Torchwick. The criminal dove to the side, dodging just in time, but the gravitational force still slammed him against a wall, leaving him just short of unconsciousness. Some of his minions weren't so fast, and when the energy struck them, they were pressed to the floor ruthlessly, and the sound of bones cracking echoed through the atrium. Finally, the energy impacted a wall, leaving a warped crater, and faded. A trail of shattered tiles lead back to its origins.

"Winter?" General Ironwood crouched, laying Winter gently on the floor. He felt her pulse – she was still alive, but that was all he could be sure of.

Before he could try to do anything to help her, he felt himself be dragged away roughly by the back of his shirt. When he looked up, he was greeted with the barrel of a rifle, carried by one of Torchwick's lackeys.

"Immobilize him! Him and the Schnee! I'm not having any of that again!" Torchwick shouted furiously from where he lay. "And the Commander – _WHERE THE HELL IS GLYNDA GOODWITCH?!_ "

"S-sir!" a lackey responded, looking nervously at the open door that lead out of the atrium and into the rest of the facility. "She – I think she escaped during the confusion! Sir!"

"You _think_? Are you a _moron_? What other options are there – is that her, _hiding_ in the corner over there?!" Torchwick made to throw his arms up in frustration, but the effort was too much for him. He yelped in pain, then looked around the room, seething. "Neo! Over here!"

One of his minions, a pink-and-brown-haired young woman, skipped over to him. She hadn't been in the way of the Dust attack, but that didn't seem to make her any happier. With a frown and a pout, she offered a hand to Torchwick, but he refused with a wave.

"Neo. I'm done playing nice," he said hoarsely, but his voice rang through the atrium. "Go out there and find that wretched woman – and when you do, _don't_ bring her back," he looked towards the unconscious Winter. "And if, by any chance, you find a certain stranger along the way – that one, you bring back, right after you do whatever you wanna do with her. Got it?"

Neo stared at him for a moment, as if she were stunned by his request. Then she smiled widely, took a knife from her belt, and skipped out of the atrium, disappearing into the darkness of the facility.

"Good girl," Torchwick whispered. "Go get 'em."

General Ironwood shivered, hoping that, for her sake, Glynda had not stopped running yet.


	3. In the dark

Weiss let go of the wall and stood straight again, but hesitantly so. The force which she had felt pulling her down had ended as fast as it came, but her knees were still trembling from the sudden shock, and she was finding it a little difficult to breathe.

"I didn't imagine that, did I?" Jaune said, getting up from his knees. He shone his light on Weiss' face, "Yeah, I _definitely_ didn't. What was that?"

Weiss turned the light away from her eyes. "I don't know," she said. "But whatever it was, it came from down lower. All the more reason for us to get to the first floor."

"You want to go _towards_ the weird gravity thing?" Jaune asked, baffled.

"Gravity," Weiss repeated under her breath. "Yes, I do. Feel free to stay behind, if you're so scared."

She regained a firm grip on her case and walked ahead through the dark hallway. Luckily, nothing had happened to them during their moment of weakness. If a Protector had showed up right then, they would have been in big trouble. But it had been minutes since they had heard any of the robots' footsteps, much less seen them – yet Weiss knew they were patrolling the hallways.

"I'm not scared," Jaune whispered, catching up to her. "I'm just being rational. Isn't there somewhere else we could go? Maybe we could turn the power back on, how about that?"

"Again, if you've come up with your own brilliant plan, you're free to try it," Weiss said. "As for me, I have a sneaking suspicion the – ahem – _killer robots_ ," she looked at him pointedly. "…are not going to let us anywhere _near_ the building's power grid."

"I'm just tossing out ideas, that's all," Jaune said sulkily.

"Don't overextend yourself, you're doing well enough holding that light for me," Weiss replied sharply. "Thank you, by the way. I'd rather not trip over something and break my neck."

"Sure. Thank me for the light," Jaune grumbled. "Not for saving your life. Who cares, right?"

Weiss bit her tongue to keep herself from sniping back at him. She was glad she did so, as just an instant later, she felt quite regretful about her attitude towards him. Annoying or not, Jaune had a point. He _had_ saved her life…

Still, she was too proud to backtrack now, and the cool feeling of the case in her hand reminded her that they were only allies out of necessity. As soon as this mess was over, Weiss intended to never again look at Jaune's face.

"What do you expect we'll find down there?" Jaune asked, as they finally came across a stairway.

Weiss didn't answer. Frankly, she had no idea.

* * *

Winter couldn't move. It was no great surprise – she could barely open her eyes for a second before having to close them again. Her whole body felt numb, like her bones and skin had turned to rubber. All she knew is that she was leaning back against a wall, and as she tried to lift her head off it, a sharp pain pierced through the back of her skull like a drill.

"Miss Winter," a soft voice came from beside her, and she felt a hand cover her own. "Don't panic. You are fine, but… well, you know better than to move, don't you?"

Winter struggled to part her lips, just enough to get one word out. "Klein…?"

"That's me," the voice answered a moment later. "I must say, you gave me quite the scare. That Dust beam, goodness me…"

Winter squeezed his hand, smiling despite the pain.

She heard someone else shuffle nearby. "Winter," General Ironwood spoke. "I'm glad you're okay."

"General," she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Although it was difficult, she managed to keep them open for longer this time. Her vision was murky, but she could make out Klein kneeling beside her, a wet rag on his hands, and on her other side, Ironwood, his hands bound behind his back by a thick metal wire.

She scanned the rest of the atrium. The guests were still where she'd last seen them, held hostage by the criminals. Torchwick himself was nowhere to be seen, but to compensate for his absence, a trio of red-visor Protectors were making rounds around the room, energy rifles in their hands. The exhibits were still being carted away.

"What… happened?" she muttered.

"The plan worked. Glynda escaped while you had Torchwick distracted," the General said. "It didn't take long for him to notice. He sent… someone to search for her."

Winter blinked. "Someone?"

"His right-hand woman, I believe. The mute one. I don't remember her name," Ironwood shook his head. "I would trust Glynda Goodwitch with my life, but I must admit, I am not so sure she can get us out of this situation with that girl stalking her."

"Torchwick left a while ago with some of his people," Klein chimed in, his stare becoming quite furious. "Said he wanted to look around for _hidden treasures_ , that thief…"

"And Weiss…?"

Klein and Ironwood looked at each other, then back at her. "We haven't heard anything about her," the General said.

"But she's a resourceful one, your sister," Klein nodded firmly. "Now, shut those eyes. You're still not well at all, that's obvious. Don't make me force you."

In any other circumstance, Winter would be furious at anyone talking to her like that in front of her superior. Currently, she couldn't find the energy to care. So she just grimaced, to let Klein know she _wasn't_ twelve-years-old anymore, and closed her eyes as he suggested.

But she didn't fall asleep immediately. Before she could, she was kept awake by a quiet conversation between the two men.

"What a marvel. To think, the snow-haired little girl I used to bribe with cookies so she would go to bed… Never would I have imagined how powerful she would become… But I couldn't be prouder."

"Let's hope that strength runs in the family."

* * *

"Wait."

Weiss raised a hand, and Jaune stopped, his foot hovering over the next step down. They were halfway down the stairs between the third and second floors now, and things hadn't gotten any brighter. But she had a bad feeling…

"What is it?" Jaune whispered, tilting the light so that they were less exposed. "Did you hear something?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure," Weiss said, trying to peer through the darkness, but it was useless. "We haven't seen any Protectors. Either we've gotten very lucky, or that first one was a fluke."

"Well, you don't strike me as an optimist. So, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking whoever's controlling the Protectors has a better plan than just letting them roam free. And that going down these stairs was not the smartest idea."

Jaune looked very relieved. "Does that mean we're not going down there anymore?"

Weiss stepped past him, gesturing over her head. " _No_. Just stay alert."

Their steps were glaringly loud in the silence of the facility, and the further down they got, the more Weiss wanted to turn back and find another way to get to the atrium. But she knew the layout of the facility like the back of her hand. With the elevators out of power, there was no other way.

They reached the second floor, and Weiss stepped into the hallway, her shoulders tense. She looked around, moving the littlest she could. As always, darkness. Silence. The stairway to the first floor was empty.

"We're clear?" Jaune asked, standing behind her.

Weiss took another look around, then turned to him. "Yes. Don't let your guard down. The next floor is probably-"

A whirring noise interrupted her, and suddenly half of Jaune's face was showered in a red glow. Weiss pushed him and jumped back herself, and just then, and energy round pierced the air between them, searing a hole through a room's window at the end of the hallway.

The Protector appeared on the right, visible only by the lights of its visor and rifle. The gun turned, and Weiss started towards the stairs – only for another Protector to appear, marching its way up the steps. It extended its arm, and Jaune, who had not seen it yet, suddenly found himself locked in place with a metal hand wrapped around his shoulder.

"Crap!" he shouted, lunging away, but the Protector neither lost its grip nor moved an inch. "Weiss, hide!"

"Where?!" she yelled back, then ducked as another energy round flew her way. "Nevermind!"

She kicked open a door and ran inside, nearly avoiding another shot. She didn't remember this room, but it looked like a mechanic's workshop – not her area of expertise, but she couldn't complain right now. With the sounds of Jaune struggling outside and the rifle-wearing Protector running towards her, Weiss threw her case to the floor and started opening drawers.

"There's gotta be something, something, _anything_ ," she spoke under her breath, gritting her teeth. "Come _on_!"

The Protector came in and locked its aim on her. Weiss dove behind a desk, and the room was suddenly flashing red again and again, the smell of something burnt filling her nostrils. The metal she was hiding behind started to dent and warp, until a hole was torn and an energy round pierced through, missing her by an inch.

The Protector stopped, its rifle recharging loudly. Weiss backed away on all fours, desperate for cover – but even if she found one, the robot would just destroy it too, if it didn't go after her and grab her immediately. But she didn't have another option. She could only stall until-

Her hand fell over something. She closed her fingers around it. Wrench? Wrench!

Weiss jumped to her feet and tossed the wrench at the Protector. The tool hit it right in the head. It didn't even budge. Weiss stood frozen as the Protector raised its rifle, which whirred and glowed…

There was yellow flash behind the robot, and it stumbled forward, sparks arcing off its head. A moment later, the Protector fell, and Glynda Goodwitch stepped inside the room, lowering a Dust pistol. Jaune came right after, and she closed the door behind him.

Goodwitch turned, fixing both of them with a stare that could cut through diamond. "Congratulations. You two just alerted every robot on this floor."

"I mean… it's not like we did it on purpose," Jaune said. Her attention turned completely to him, and he mumbled something unintelligible as a drop of sweat ran down his forehead.

"You're lucky I saved you," Goodwitch said. "Miss Schnee, where's the security room? Or wherever I can restore the power?"

Weiss shook her head, recovering from the shock of the past minutes. "Excuse me?" she curled her fists. "What is _happening_ here? Explain!"

Goodwitch looked at the ceiling in exasperation, which only made Weiss angrier. Was it really so inconvenient of her to ask what was happening inside her own place of work after having been nearly killed _twice_? She didn't think so. And if Goodwitch did…

"Your facility is under attack by Roman Torchwick," the Commander explained. "Do you know who he is?"

"Do I know – of course I know who Roman Torchwick is!" Weiss exclaimed. "Why is he here?"

"He's a thief, Miss Schnee. Connect the dots," Goodwitch sighed. "He is holding your guests hostage in the atrium. More than twenty people, I must stress. He's got the place on lockdown. The situation is grave."

"And my sister couldn't stop him?" Weiss asked, a note of trepidation in her voice. "What happened to her?"

"She tried to stop him, but it didn't work that well. But she's fine, as far as I know," Goodwitch put her hands on her hips. "Now that you're filled in – where can I restore the power?"

Weiss pursed her lips. Working with Jaune had been bad enough. Now she had to deal with his superior too. But she had no other choice – a recurring theme today, it seemed.

"There's a security room on the first floor," she said. "I think you can restore the power from there, as well as lift the lockdown."

"Scratch that," Goodwitch shook her head. "The first floor is crawling with the lowlifes. Knowing Roman Torchwick, he must have had the security room occupied before he started his operation. He's a bastard, but a clever one."

"There _is_ another room on the fifth floor," Weiss said hesitantly. "It might work from there."

Goodwitch nodded. "It will have to do," she looked at Jaune. "Did you confiscate the objective?"

"Yes," he paused. "Sorta," Jaune picked up the case from the ground and put it on a desk. "I didn't get the chance to verify it – we kinda got attacked by a killer robot."

"I see. Well, that is an actually _legitimate_ excuse, for once, Agent Arc," Goodwitch noted dryly. "Don't lose it. And keep Miss Schnee safe. I'll be having a word with her once this is over."

Weiss scowled. Goodwitch turned and grabbed the doorknob.

"Wait!" Weiss called, stepping forward. "You don't expect me to stay here, do you?"

"That is exactly what I expect," the Commander said. "You'll hide until I come back for you. But I won't leave you alone. Agent Arc will protect you in case you get into more trouble."

"Oh, _thank you_! I have no objections now!" Weiss pointed at the floor. "This is _my_ facility. I am not going to hide while a terrorist steals from it. And if you think you can stop me-"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Miss Schnee," Goodwitch interrupted. "This facility isn't yours. It's your father's. And regardless of your name, you are just a civilian, in no position to interfere with a Beacon agent's job," her eyes narrowed. "And if you try, I won't forget about it when I'm opening that case."

A thousand retorts rose to the tip of Weiss' tongue, but she didn't open her mouth, and they faded away, forgotten. She was so angry, and yet she felt so helpless – who was she compared to Glynda Goodwitch, Sub-Director of Beacon? Just a girl with a powerful father, and that's where it ended.

"Good. When the lights come back on," Goodwitch said. " _Don't_ move." She left the room, closing the door on her way out.

Weiss refused to look at Jaune. She sat down and leaned back against a wall, hoping to disappear in the shadows, and didn't speak another word.

* * *

Cat. Mouse. Cat. Mouse. Cat. Mouse. It was always fun to play the cat. Now if only she could find the mouse…

Not on the first floor, it seemed. Neo had searched in every room, checking under desks and inside cupboards, but had found nothing. The people the boss had stationed at the security station were still there, undisturbed. And outside the facility, where their plane was being loaded up with treasure… Beacon agent or not, there was no way anyone could sneak past the sentries and the pilot.

Yes, neither Commander nor heiress were anywhere to be found on the first floor. But Neo wasn't encouraged. Just the contrary…

She was happy to extend the hunt, beginning with the second floor…

* * *

Jaune looked out the window, scanning the hallway outside timidly with his light. A Protector had walked by a few minutes after Commander Goodwitch had left, but since then, it had been empty. He wasn't so relieved – after all, the last time they'd thought they were safe, two robots had ambushed them. So, he wasn't about to drop his guard. Jaune prided himself in his ability to learn fast.

"Can I borrow that light?"

Jaune looked behind him. Weiss was on her feet again, a hand extended politely. He couldn't see very well in the darkness, but her face looked solemn. The heiress had gone through so many changed in the two hours they'd known each other – from professional to charming to wrathful to reluctantly cooperative to whatever _this_ was now – Jaune was more than a little confused.

He handed her the light, and she moved to the drawers and cupboards on the right wall of the workshop, lighting them up one by one.

"What are you looking for?"

"Dust."

"Why?"

That, she didn't answer. After a bit of waiting, Jaune faced the window again. Had he just imagined that tall figure in the corner? Yeah, he had. No way a Protector could be that silent.

Maybe he should grab that energy rifle laying on the floor. It would be very useful in a pinch. But he hadn't been kidding when he told Weiss about the Commander not trusting him with weapons. He'd rather not show her why.

A sharp noise behind him made him jump. Jaune spun around and saw Weiss standing beside a desk. In front of her was the metal case, its one latch unlocked. Beside was a cylinder the size of a fist, with a glowing blue material flowing hypnotically inside. Dust.

"What are you doing?" he asked, approaching reluctantly.

"Take a look," Weiss opened the case. Inside was a steel syringe and a bottle filled with a liquid Jaune had never seen before. It was a faded shade of yellow mixed with red, with white bubbles floating throughout.

"Is that… the serum?" Jaune looked at Weiss, aghast. "So it's true! You _have_ experimented with Semblances and all that stuff!"

Weiss' eyes wavered as she looked at the contents of the case. "It depends what you mean by _experiment_ ," she said hesitantly. "I cracked the formula, but it took me years. I've only run simulations. The results were not absolutely positive," she paused. "…but they were positive enough."

Jaune looked at the window. Nothing outside. But somehow, that only made him feel worse.

"You're saying this thing can give someone a Semblance?" he asked.

"No. Semblances can't be given, and they don't just appear," Weiss said. "If you have the genes, a Semblance may be unlocked in a situation of great stress, be it physical, psychological, or emotional. Most likely a combination of the three."

"And the serum helps with that?" Jaune felt his stomach drop. "That sounds awful."

"That's it. But a catalyst is needed," Weiss picked up the Dust cylinder and lifted in front of her eyes.

Jaune looked at her, then the case, then back at her. "Oh, no. No, no, no! You are _not_ doing that!"

Weiss took the bottle and opened it, facing him all the while. "And you'll stop me how?"

"I'll – I'll immobilize you! I have extensive training!" Jaune raised his fists. "Drop the bottle, Miss Schnee!"

Weiss looked at him dubiously and picked up the syringe. Jaune watched helplessly as she poured the strange liquid into the syringe, filling three quarters of its length.

"Why are you doing this, anyway?" Jaune asked, growing desperate. "Commander Goodwitch has this under control! We just have to wait for her to come back and everything will be unicorns and rainbows!"

"I made myself very clear before," Weiss said steely. "This is my facility. My company. I won't let a lowlife terrorist like Roman Torchwick tarnish the reputation of the SDC."

"He's not gonna do that," Jaune said. "Like I said, Commander Goodwitch-"

" _No_. This is my responsibility."

Jaune let his arms fall limp at his sides. There was no way he could change Weiss' mind, that much was clear. And though he was more than scared of what she planned to do to herself, he couldn't help but sympathize with her a little. There was a determination in her that went beyond saving the reputation of her company or taking down the bad guy. This was personal.

Or maybe he was just being an idiot.

"Alright. _Fine_!" Jaune massaged his brow tiredly. He was already regretting this decision. "Just tell me how to make sure you don't kill yourself, okay?"

"I'm glad you're offering," Weiss opened the Dust cylinder and turned it upside down. The Dust left its confine and entered the syringe, mixing with the liquid, which enlarged and turned icy blue. "Here," she offered him the syringe. "You're gonna do it for me."

Jaune faltered. " _What_?" he croaked. "No!"

Weiss gave him an incredulous look. "Are you joking? I'm asking you for something simple!"

"Sticking the heiress of a multi-billionaire company with a syringe full of weird water and Dust is _not_ something simple!" Jaune exclaimed.

" _Listen_. I can't do it myself," Weiss' voice lowered. "You have to do it, Jaune. And then I can fix this mess we're in."

Jaune shook his head fervently, making her understand he was not okay with this at all, and took the syringe. Weiss rolled back her left sleeve and turned her upper arm towards him.

"Go on."

"I hate this."

"I'll give you my number after."

"That's just a cruel lie."

Jaune laid the needle against her arm, and, cringing all the while, pushed it in. The liquid seemed to glow even brighter as it was injected. Half a minute later, the syringe was empty. Carefully, Jaune pulled it back, then stared expectantly at Weiss.

At first, she just stood there, looking ahead absently, as if waiting for something to happen. Then she released a gasp that echoed hauntingly in Jaune's ear, and gripped the edge of the desk, wobbling in place.

"Weiss?" Jaune called. "T-that's the - the stress part, right?"

Suddenly, Weiss collapsed. Jaune rushed towards her, dropping the empty syringe, and caught her just before she hit the floor. She was cold – cold as ice, Jaune realized.

Shaking, he sat her down, leaning against the desk. Her eyes were shut. Jaune pressed an ear to her chest.

"Oh, God," he swallowed dry. "I just killed Weiss Schnee."


	4. Mirror Mirror

_She was twelve, and it was the night that had changed her life forever._

_Silence reigned as the family sat around the dining room table. Father was in one of his moods again, like it always happened after a bad day. Those happened more often than the good days, so much so that he should start calling them regular days, but that didn't help his temper._

_Weiss didn't know exactly what had happened – she wasn't privy to that kind of information back then – but she could tell that it had been worse than usual. Father was looking at the steak on his plate as if he wanted to strangle it, and Winter was unusually slack in her seat, her head swaying forward occasionally, only for it to snap back up a second later. Her eyes were a puffy red, like she'd been awake for days._

_Weiss had already finished her dinner. She could see Whitley had finished his too. Winter had eaten half of hers, and didn't seem able to stomach any more. But none of them got up – they all understood that the first one to do so would regret it dearly. They'd learned from experience, thoroughly._

_A distant clock ticked the minutes away in a distant hallway. Weiss remembered that clearly. Funny how the littlest things become engraved in your mind._

_Finally, Winter dragged her chair back and stood. Weiss froze, meeting eyes with Whitley across the table. This was it…_

_"Where are you going?" their father asked, his eyes rising slowly to Winter's face. "You haven't finished your food."_

_"I'm sorry, father. I can't eat anymore," Winter said, blinking heavily. "I… might be ill…"_

_"You_ should _be sorry," he replied cuttingly, ignoring her last remark. "What do I pay the kitchen staff for? Nothing worthwhile, I suppose, as far as you children are concerned."_

_Winter didn't reply. For a moment, her eyes shut completely, and Weiss thought she'd fallen asleep right there, standing up and everything._

_"Winter Schnee!" their father shouted, standing up and going around the table to stand before Winter, who opened her eyes, startled. "What is this?!"_

_"I'm – I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" Winter faltered, her usual flawless behavior all but gone. "I'm just – I'm so tired – I've been working without pause for the past week on that project you entrusted me – and today – I was helping all day with the White Fang fallout-"_

_"Are you blaming_ me _for your lack of discipline? Or are you blaming those blood crazed mutts? Am I to understand you are the real victim here, living under my roof without a worry in the world, while every day more of my people-"_

_"No, sir, I just – if I could just get some rest, then-"_

_"DON'T INTERRUPT ME._ "

_The slap rang in Weiss' ears for years to come. She wasn't unfamiliar to the sound, but this time… she never wanted to hear anything like that again._

_Winter was leaning against the table, breathing laboriously. Her hair had fallen from its bun to cover half of her face, leaving only her right eye visible. Weiss saw a tear slide down her cheek…_

_And suddenly, Winter had turned and thrust an arm towards their father, and_ something _appeared between them, a floating disc of what looked like solid light, spinning fast like a clock._

_"Don't touch me!" Winter screeched, and their father was sent reeling back by an invisible force, stopping just short of hitting the wall behind him._

_The disc of light disappeared. Winter looked down at her hand, her eyes widening in terror and confusion and – and awe? Then she turned and ran from the room, not caring as she slammed the doors against the walls on the way out._

_"What in the-" For a moment, their father looked utterly lost, even afraid. Then, as if nothing had happened, his ire returned. "WINTER SCHNEE! GET BACK HERE!"_

_And he went after her, his steps echoing like an earthquake. Weiss stayed rooted in her chair, numb to the world around her. What had just happened?_

_In a distant hallway, the clock kept ticking and ticking._

* * *

 

Jaune backed away, feeling sick.

He had really screwed up this time, and not in a funny way. He'd had one job, to protect Weiss Schnee while the Commander went ahead and fixed the mess they were in. It should have been easy. Stay put, and stop the heiress from doing anything rash - that was all he needed to do.

But he'd failed. He'd let her talk him into doing the stupidest thing she could have done. He'd helped her. Done it _for her_. And now she was dead. Because he couldn't exert his authority over her – he was too afraid, too weak, too insecure.

He was nothing, and she had payed for it. When Commander Goodwitch came back, she'd fire him. He'd probably be punished for his incompetence too. But he didn't care. He deserved it.

He didn't belong in Beacon in the first place, anyway.

* * *

  _She was fourteen, and today marked one month since Winter had left._

_Weiss hadn't waited long for her to come back. After two days, she knew for certain that Winter had left for good, and that father would not be going back on his decision about the heirship._

_Weiss was the heiress. Winter was gone. This was how things were now._

_Her father hadn't uttered Winter's name since that day. Not even once. But Weiss knew that, even as he took her to meeting after meeting with the board members, and scheduled new and exhaustive business lessons for her, and made sure she was, despite everything else, giving double time to her job at the Research Center – that Winter's slight against him never left his mind._

_She had been strong enough to stand for herself. For the first time, her will had won over his. And one time was all it took for her to break free. He was_ livid. _He wouldn't soon forget that day._

_Weiss wouldn't either._

_Today was the first day she would be going about her business on her own, without him or one of his many assistants watching over her shoulder. The title of heiress wasn't just for show – she had real obligations to fulfill, minor matters that her father couldn't see to himself, but important enough that he needed someone he could trust to do it in his stead._

_"Remember, Weiss, I am counting on you. You've excelled in the new position I've trusted you with, but today is different," he said, sitting behind his desk. "You'll be on your own, but don't think that means you can relax. In fact, I expect you to work even harder," he smiled at her, but that made him look even sterner. "Think of it as a test of whether you are ready to step into… your new role."_

_Winter's role. That was what he meant to say. Weiss knew, because his face darkened as he spoke those words, and when he was finished, he dragged back his chair and went over to the shelf on the corner of his office, which held a myriad of liquors Weiss had never seen him touch before – not during business hours, that is._

_He uncorked a bottle and spilled the drink onto a glass, then turned to face the window, silent. Weiss saw his face reflected on the glass and sank a little in her chair._

_"I understand," she said, striving to keep control of her voice. "I won't disappoint you, father."_

_"Don't waste my time with words, child," he sighed, spinning his glass slowly. "Let your actions speak for themselves. Only then will I be satisfied."_

_Weiss bowed her head hastily to hide her reaction. She was, as often happened when they talked alone, wishing she could go back in time and change what she said. She also hoped his rage didn't spill over, that it stayed sharp, cruel, yet contained._

_But a small part of her wanted to snap back at him, to yell at him that, yes, he might not need to hear any promise of hers, but he also didn't need to chide her for showing the slightest amount of self-confidence, for once. She was, after all, his heiress. He was supposed to be putting his trust in her._

_It was scary. She'd felt that way before, of course, but had never entertained any serious thought of rebelling against him. She's always known better – until Winter taught her that, perhaps, that wasn't the way things had to be._

_"Yes, father," she got up. "Have a good day."_

_"Yes, yes," he replied absently, bringing his glass to his lips._

_Weiss stiffened. The rebellious voice inside her head was suddenly much louder, deafening the meeker, more sensible voice that usually commanded her every action – the voice she used with everyone but herself._

_"Can you_ look _at me?" the words left her mouth without thought. "If I'm to represent you and your company, at least have the decency to face me."_

_In the following silence, her words rang in her ears, again and again, and her whole body was taken by a chill. She'd really done it. She'd said all that. And now she waited for the consequences – but she didn't back down, she didn't apologize, because… she meant it. Those were her words and they mattered, whether he liked them or not._

_"Excuse me?" he spoke finally, turning to look at her._

_"I asked you to look at me. That's all," Weiss said, steeling herself. "In this last month, you've entrusted me with responsibilities no person my age should be expected to shoulder, and I've met each of them head-on and, as you yourself said,_ excelled _," she paused. "Common courtesy is the least I should be afforded."_

_He looked at her, and she saw the same face he'd worn a month prior – a mixture of outrage and disbelief, like he'd never been so affronted his whole life. But there was something new, something he hadn't shown even at the height of his fury at Winter – contempt. Pure, unfiltered, utter contempt._

_"You are not half as strong as your sister," he said, leaning on his desk, towering over her. "Nor are you half as smart. If you were, you'd know to choose your battles," his grip on his glass tightened, and a bit of his drink spilled over onto the desk, staining a stack of documents. "God, you are pathetic! One little change in your life, and suddenly you think you are on top of the world. Nothing's changed. Heiress or not, you're my daughter, and as such, I won't have you speak to me in that tone ever again._ Understood _?"_

_Weiss withered. The rebel inside was gone, and her voice took back over, stuttering, whimpering, crying apologies and platitudes to appease him._

_"I-I u-understand, father," she said, barely getting the words out._

_"Good. Now go do your job."_

_She turned quickly and went to the door, nearly running for it._

_"_ No person my age _. What nonsense," she heard him say caustically behind her. "You're a Schnee, for God's sake. Start acting like one."_

* * *

 "Basement, basement, basement… Ahah! Found you, treasure cove."

Roman Torchwick stopped before the steel door, smiling greedily as he imagined what wonders hid behind it. His info on the Center hadn't specified what the Schnees kept in there, but they had to have somewhere to store their cancelled or on-hold prototypes, and what better place than a locked basement confined to the most remote corner of the facility?

"Come on, boys and girls," he said, turning around and spinning his finger over his shoulder. "Get that door open so we can enjoy our spoils."

The basement's door was operated by a digital lock, but seeing as he'd turned off the building's electricity, they couldn't simply hack their way inside as he normally would. That was a downside of this lockdown method, but he'd choose that slight inconvenience over having Beacon and the Atlas National Force raining their wrath upon him any day.

Luckily, he'd come prepared. His three accompanying underlings took out a miniature bomb and attached it to the door, then backed away as it started ticking. Torchwick took a step back and lowered his hat before his eyes, waiting in silent glee. Three… two… one…

The bomb went off with a resounding _boom_ , and the door broke from its hinges and fell on the floor, resembling a ball of warped metal. Torchwick waited for the smoke to dissipate, then stepped over the door and walked down the steps.

The basement wasn't as big as he had dreamed, but he wasn't disappointed at all. From the looks of it, his prediction about the place had been more than right. There weren't only forgotten prototypes down here, but also regular Schnee products, too old for current-year standards, but still advanced enough to fetch him a nice price each.

"Ah, how predictable these folks are, thinking their doors will stop me," Torchwick sighed contently, looking around. "What have we here…"

He went over to a desk, upon which rested a device he'd never seen before. It _looked_ like a coffee thermos, but he'd never heard of the SDC trying to get into that market. He picked it up and spun it in his hands. On the side was a button, so small he had missed it at first. Torchwick pressed it and, to his astonishment, the thermos's bottom expanded outward like a baton, until he was holding it like a baseball bat.

"What the-" he looked down at it, struggling to understand how anyone had come up with such an outlandish invention. What was its function? Was it even _practical_? "No wonder they keep this stuff locked in a dark basement! I wouldn't want anyone to see this silly thing either."

He looked at the thermos for a moment longer, then pressed the button again, and it returned to its original form. Chuckling, he hid it under his jacket. Practical or not, he was sure someone would show interest in buying it eventually. With the million-lien haul he'd already scored, he would have all the time in the world to sell the niche stuff.

"What else, what else…" he mumbled under his breath as he walked around the storeroom, examining its wares and picking out what he wanted his people to take back to the plane. "Dust flashlights? Good stuff, shoulda worked more on those. Relightable cigars? Eh, doubtful, but I'll keep one for research purposes. A _shield_? Made of oumhi – oumhni – oum _what_?"

He stepped past that last object with a sneer on his face. The Schnees were making up metals now? _Right_. Probably fancy, well-disguised titanium or something.

Finally, Torchwick arrived back at the entrance of the basement, and he wasn't too happy. He had expected more out of this venture. All he had were trinkets and obsolete tech. Pocket change at most.

Sighing, he started to turn back to the stairs, but something caught his eyes and he stopped in his tracks. On the right wall of the storeroom, hidden behind a metal shelf, was the outline of a sliding door. His greed relighted, Torchwick marched there in a heartbeat and rolled the shelf aside, then tried to open the door. It was probably meant to open automatically, but with the electricity off, it was inactive, so he had difficulty getting anywhere with it. Eventually, with the help of his underlings, he managed to pry his fingers into the side of the door, and pushed it into the wall.

He looked up, and as he took in the new discovery, his eyes lit up with amazement. Oh, this detour had been _more_ than worth his time.

"My friends," he said breathlessly. "…we're gonna need a lot more people to carry this beauty out of here."

* * *

  _She was fifteen, and it was her first free day in a whole year._

_Father was brutal with his expectations about her business life, but at least he was merciful on her birthday. However, she was certain that he didn't grant her the freedom out of compassion or care, but rather out of a sense of obligation. The same sense that made her mother come out of her room and talk to her for once, even if but a for a few minutes._

_She'd been counting the days for a long while, but now that her birthday was here, it wasn't as liberating as she had imagined it was going to be. Weiss had half the day off, yes, but thoughts and worries about the company still plagued her mind every second she wasn't working, and she still had to behave like the proper heiress. She wasn't allowed to go out of the house and make some fun for herself either, because, as her father had told her, she still had obligations to see to tonight.  
_

_Oh, well. Even if she had been allowed that freedom, what would she have done with it? Weiss didn't know anything more than her house and her company's many buildings and branches. Frankly, the idea of going out into the city, to partake in the activities regular people engaged in everyday… it made her more anxious than she would ever admit. That kind of thing – that whole world – it was not hers, and it would never be._

_So she spent much of the day in her room, alone, doing nothing in particular. She sang quietly a little, wondering if she hadn't lost her singing voice with the lack of practice. Around noon, Klein brought her a cake he'd baked just for her, and they'd eaten together. That, more than her everyday dealings with her father and her brief conversation with her mother, felt like a true family moment to her. But it was over quickly, as Klein had other things to attend to._

_Weiss had resigned herself to being unhappy for the rest of her birthday, when someone knocked on her door – someone she thought she'd never see again._

_"May I come in?"_

_Weiss held the door open, awestruck at the sight of her sister. Winter had turned eighteen-years-old months before she'd left, but only now did she look like an adult to Weiss' eyes, and she suspected it wasn't just because they'd spent so much time apart. Winter looked… confident, and not in the way their father had taught her to be. There was something in her eyes that spoke of a newfound certainty, an unbreakable strength that lay evident in her regal posture._

_"Of… of course," Weiss caught herself and took a step back. "Come in."_

_Winter stepped past her, and Weiss felt quite small compared to her. Ugly, even. If only she could match that expression, walk the same stride…_

_"I'm sorry, sister. I wanted to pay you a visit much sooner, but… things got in the way. My life has been hard to manage as of late, as you might imagine," Winter said, turning to face her. "But I made a point to see you today. Happy birthday, Weiss."_

_Winter bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. Weiss stayed still, her cheeks burning – how very unusual of Winter to be so openly affectionate. Things really had changed over the past year._

_"T-thank you, sister," Weiss said, looking up at her. "And it's okay. I wasn't… expecting a visit, though I am happy to see you again. What have you been up to?"_

_"Father hasn't told you?" Winter sighed. "No, of course he hasn't. I gained many contacts throughout my years as heiress, and one of them worked in the National Force. That's where I'm working now."_

_"You're… a soldier?" Weiss asked, bewildered. "Are you serious?"_

_"I am," Winter smiled slightly. "And a good one, if I may say so myself. It pays well, too."_

_Weiss shook her head slowly. She had thought a lot about what Winter might have been doing since she'd parted ways with the SDC, from joining a rival company to founding one of her own. Winter was a businesswoman, that was fact. Weiss would never have imagined she would become a soldier. But, then again, her sister had done many things that had caught her by surprise over the years._

_"What about you, Weiss?" Winter asked. "I've heard a lot about you lately. You make quite the heiress – maybe a better one than I ever did."_

_"What?" Weiss frowned. "How would you know…?"_

_"The SDC is one of, if not the most powerful company in the world. Naturally, its CEO is quite the important figure, as is his heiress," Winter said. "The general public might not know who you are, but trust me when I say there are many eyes upon you, sister."_

_"I see…" Weiss said. "So you're not upset that I took over your position?"_

_"Why would I be? I quit for a reason," Winter looked at her seriously. "Enough about me. I'm more interested to hear how you've been."_

_Weiss closed her mouth and looked away. How was she supposed to answer that? She wanted nothing more than to tell Winter about everything – the hours upon hours she spent working every day; her father's expectations, which only grew each time she met them; the cold she felt inside her each time she looked at her reflection, as if her heart was turning to stone bit by bit – but she couldn't say any of that. Those were things that were not to be spoken, that should stay with her and only her._

_"I've been doing great," Weiss said. "Being the heiress is tough, but I can handle it."_

_"I hope so," Winter laid a hand on her shoulder. "Weiss. Understand this – I was in the same position you are in today for a long time. I told myself every day that I was well, that I could rise above it all and power through, and… I was right. I managed splendidly, as you have," she closed her eyes. "But I wasn't happy. I always knew it, but it took me a long time to come to terms with that. Too long, I'm afraid. But when I did…"_

_She gestured at herself and smiled. Weiss bowed her head. The words rang like an echo of her own thoughts, but it didn't feel right to agree._

_"You don't need to pretend, sister, not when you're with me," Winter whispered. "If you're unhappy… Just reach out. I can help you, if you'll allow me."_

_Weiss opened her mouth, meaning to do just as Winter suggested. This was it. The chance to change everything she was unhappy about._

_But then a cold sting went through her heart, and she looked up at her sister, her eyes straightening ever so slightly. "Thank you, Winter," she said stiffly. "But as I've already said, I'm doing great. Your offer is appreciated, but I don't need your help. I am more than capable enough on my own."_

_Winter looked at her in dismay for a moment, then sighed and turned away. "If that's how you feel," she went to the door and opened it, but stopped short of leaving, casting a look over her shoulder. "You are strong, sister. Don't ever allow anyone to convince you otherwise."_

_She closed the door behind her, and suddenly Weiss was alone again, standing in the middle of a lifeless room. Her eyes stung, but she wiped them with her sleeve and forced her face to assume a stoic expression. She wasn't going to cry. She was better than that._

_She was a Schnee, after all._

* * *

 Silence. _Thump_. Silence. _Thump_. Silence. _Thump_. Silence.

…

The red light of the Protector disappeared after a corner in the middle of the hallway. Glynda rose up behind her hiding spot, a desk she'd taken from a nearby room and turned just in time to avoid being spotted by the machine. If she'd taken just a second more, her presence would have been revealed, and she would have been faced with danger she wasn't certain she could survive.

Since her saving of Weiss Schnee and Arc, the Protectors everywhere in the building seemed to be patrolling much harder than before. They probably shared a minor network while not being linked to the building's security mainframe, and so all were aware that there was an armed intruder able to disable them navigating the facility.

It was only her experience and an extraordinary amount of luck that had carried her so far without being targeted by the robots, but now that she was at the fifth floor, she doubted that luck would last any longer. The security room was sure to be secured heavily by a number of Protectors, and probably a few of Torchwick's men too.

The next minutes were going to be hell. She was the Sub-Director of Beacon, but she was no miracle worker. She was going to be spotted. Every machine on this floor was going to be gunning for her. But she would not be intimidated.

In a lifetime of crises, this was just another one, and Glynda Goodwitch never backed down in a crisis.

* * *

  _She was seventeen, and she had just received the strangest email._

_Weiss knew better than to open just anything that appeared in her inbox, but there was something different about this one. Her email address was regulated by company policy, and had the strongest security system that could be bought. She seldom received spam or scam messages, but when she did, it was purged immediately and automatically from her computer._

_So the fact that the e-mail had not only arrived whitelisted in her main inbox, and had remained there, untouched by security, was peculiar. She didn't open it, of course. Maybe the security system was taking a long time processing it, or it had made a mistake in analyzing the message. But as the hours passed and she kept working, and still the message remained there, her curiosity only grew._

A friend. _That's what whoever had sent it called themselves. Was she_ supposed _to be suspicious of it? Maybe this was some kind of prank? If so, whoever had had the brilliant idea to play a joke on the heiress of the SDC would be paying a heavy price later. Wouldn't_ that _be funny?_

_Finally, when she'd gotten all the day's work done and the night dragged on outside her office, her curiosity got the better of her. She opened the email, and an executable file booted itself up._

_Pages upon pages about… Semblances? Whatever those were. Formulas. Equations. Images and videos. Weiss scrolled past them all quickly, expecting a virus to pop anytime… but that didn't happen._

_She reached the end of the file, and came upon one last video, already playing. Weiss gasped._

_It was taken from a black-and-white security feed, showing none other than her sister, holding her hand out in front of her. A giant glowing circle hovered inches from her fingers, deflecting bullets from a dozen different guns at least. A second later, she closed her hands, and the circle narrowed into a thin line, and she whipped it outside's the camera's range._

_The video looped. Weiss hung back in her chair. She hadn't forgotten, but… whenever the memory came to her, she shoved it back inside her head and ignored it. She had no explanation for what she'd seen that day, and no one had talked about it – not Winter, not Whitley, and certainly not her father. But here it was again, living proof that she_ hadn't _imagined anything, with pages of scientific research attached to it._

_After the video, a lone paragraph ended the file._

Overwhelming evidence points towards Semblances not being random, but hereditary. Do with that information what you will.

 _Weiss closed the file. What_ was _she supposed to do with this? Why had she even opened the email in the first place? This was probably an elaborate trick, some kind of industrial sabotage. Or a test by her father. Both seemed equally as likely._

Hereditary.

_She accessed the email again, pointer hovering over the delete button._

Do with that information what you will.

_Weiss bit her lip. She looked around her office, then hastily copied the file and transferred it to her personal flash drive. With that done, she deleted the original from the computer, along with the email._

_Hopefully, she would not regret this._

* * *

 The Commander sure was taking long to come back, Jaune thought. He knew the facility wasn't a very safe place to be in right now, but he had never seen his superior be stopped by anything before. She would turn the power back on any moment now… or would she?

Maybe he should go find her... No! What would he do then? He'd already proven how disastrous his help really was. She was better off without him ruining her efforts.

But still, sitting in the dark, facing the still body of Weiss Schnee, he wished he was able to do something. _Anything_.

A noise broke the silence he was immersed in. It wasn't from inside the workshop, but from outside. Jaune sat up slightly, tilting his head to better listen. A few seconds passed, and he heard the noise again – soft steps, almost imperceptible, then a door being opened ever so slowly…

Jaune covered his mouth to muffle a terrified squeal. Someone was out there, going through every room in the hallway, and from the sneaky way they were going about it, he could tell they didn't have good intentions. Maybe Torchwick had sent someone to find the Commander – or Weiss!

Jaune's eyes returned to the cold girl sitting across from him. Nothing would fix his mistake, but… he had failed her once already, when it really mattered. He wouldn't let anything else happen to her!

Taken by a sudden courage, Jaune got up and tiptoed over to the short-circuited Protector. Careful to not make any loud noise, he took the energy rifle which lay under the robot and adjusted it in his hands. The weapon was as heavy as expected, but its size surprised him. That probably was for the best – he would rather have a big, generous gun, than a smaller one that required good aim.

He saw a light from the window of the workshop, shining on the walls of the hallway outside. A flashlight, it seemed. Whoever was out there was getting closer by the second. Jaune approached the door, took a deep breath to calm himself down, then slammed the door with his shoulder, barreling into the corridor with his gun aimed at the light.

What he saw caught him off-guard. A woman stood a little distance from him, so small she couldn't reach his shoulders, he was sure, with hair that was pink on one side and brown on the other. If it weren't for the wicked smile on her lips, and the knife she held low on her right hand, he would have thought she was a little girl who had somehow found her way into the facility.

"Uh, hi," he said. "I'm guessing you're not a very nice person, are you?"

Neopolitan smiled, and with a flick of her wrist, sent her knife flying towards him. Jaune yelped and dove to the side. He felt air rush against his cheek as the blade passed an inch from his ear. Not aiming at all, he pulled the trigger and didn't let go, and his rifle released a barrage of energy rounds, one after the other, lighting up the hallway.

After almost a minute, the rifle made a wheezing noise and stopped shooting, no matter how many times he pulled the trigger. Jaune looked down at it. "Ah, crap. Recharge!" he slammed his hand on the rifle's side. "Come on, work with me!"

He looked up and saw Neo coming out of a room, having avoided the barrage unscathed. A new blade flashed in her hand, and she dropped the flashlight she held in her other and dashed at him. Jaune yelled wordlessly and threw the rifle at her, which must have taken her by surprise, as she made no effort to dodge it and was hit in the face.

"Sorry!" Jaune yelled, turning around and breaking into a run. "I'm just saving my own skin! Nothing personal!"

He heard a strange noise behind him, then toppled to the ground as a sharp pain exploded in his left leg. Jaune looked down and saw a knife buried in the back of his thigh, and felt blood dripping down to his ankle. He heard a huff, then steps approaching him fast.

Ignoring the pain, he stood back up and did his best impression of a sprint, leaning against the walls to support his own weight. He was unarmed, and now that he was injured, he doubted he could put up even a halfway decent fight… but if he ran far enough away from the workshop, then he would succeed in his self-imposed task.

It didn't fix his mistake, but giving his life to get that mute psycho away from Weiss Schnee's body was the least he could do for her.

* * *

  _She was eighteen, and about to have a mental breakdown._

_This was it. She had been working for months on the project, doing research, scouring parts of the internet she swore never to visit, running dozens of simulations until she was one-hundred percent sure the formula was correct._

_Now she only needed to inject herself. This was the easy part. A little pinch, a painful aftermath perhaps, and then…_

_Why couldn't she do it? It was right before her, the fruit of so many sleepless nights. She had nearly lost her mind keeping this a secret from her colleagues and, most importantly, her father. She had_ earned _this._

_But what exactly would she accomplish by doing this? Yes, she would gain the same powers her sister had, but what would that change? She was still Weiss Schnee, heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, beholden to her duties and family. Her father's daughter. Nothing would change that._

You're not half as strong as her.

_She dropped the serum back into the metal case and locked it, then crumbled to the floor, covering her face as an uncontrollable shaking wreaked havoc on her body._

* * *

  _pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic pathetic_

* * *

  _You are strong, sister.  
_

* * *

  _pathetic pathetic pathetic_

* * *

_Don't ever allow anyone to convince you otherwise._

* * *

Weiss opened her eyes.

Had the room been this cold before?

Had her eyes always seen so clearly through the darkness?

Had the air always been so charged with alive energy?

She stood up, and in that movement felt a strength like never before, like she could leap ten times her height without effort. She opened and closed her hands, feeling an unseen power at her fingertips, a new part of her begging to be unleashed. Where her neck and back had hurt before from the Protectors' attacks, she didn't feel any pain.

Like a phoenix, reborn…

Weiss closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she noticed a faint light outside the workshop. The door was open, and when she passed through the doorway, she found a flashlight lying on the floor, flickering on and off. Suddenly, she knew she was missing _something_ , but what was it?

This was an important day... Father had entrusted her with the Dust Core showcase. Had that gone well? Yes, it had. Winter had been there to watch! And… Beacon agents…

"Jaune?" she called, and her voice rang across the hallway. All at once, memories of the past hours became clear inside her head.

Roman Torchwick had put the facility under lockdown. Her sister and her guests were in danger. Commander Goodwitch had gone to restore the power from the fifth floor. And Jaune Arc had helped her with the Semblance Serum injection.

"Jaune!" she called again, louder this time, and began walking down the hallway, nearly breaking into a run. How long had she been out? God, if something had happened to that idiot because of what she'd put him through… she didn't like him, but had never intended to put him in danger. She needed to find him before-

A shout further down the hallway broke her out of her thoughts. Well, not a shout – it was more of a squeal, and that was how she knew she was going the right way.

Weiss took off, running faster than she'd ever ran before – and as she glanced down, she caught the briefest sight of a white glow under her feet, and suddenly she realized it wasn't just her legs carrying her forward. The power – it was beyond belief!

She heard Jaune yell again, this time much closer, and turned a corner into a smaller hallway, coming to a graceful halt when the momentum she had built should have launched against the wall across from her. How odd...

At the end of the hallway was Jaune, his back pressed against a wall, and his assailant – not a Protector, but a girl. Weiss' heart jumped when she saw the glint of a sharp blade cut across the darkness as the stranger raised a hand and pulled it back-

"Stop!"

Acting on instinct, Weiss thrust out a hand, and a small glyph appeared between Jaune's head and the vicious knife. The blade rebounded with a shrill noise, and Neopolitan stumbled back. She spun around to look at Weiss, her eyes looking like they would pop out of their sockets, so astonished she was.

"Weiss! I didn't kill you!" Jaune yelled, and Weiss had never heard anyone spout something so absurd with such unbridled happiness before.

"Yes, thank you," Weiss smiled despite herself. "Hey, you freak show fugitive," she looked at Neo. "Pick on someone your own size."

Neo glared at her, her surprise at Weiss' interference gone. She lunged at her, swinging her knife, but Weiss bent her knees, and a glyph appeared beneath her. Unbending, she shot upwards and turned, hovering in the air for a split second, until she summoned another glyph on the ceiling and stood on it upside-down.

The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever felt. The glyph pulled on her, and it was as if she'd detached from the world and gained an entirely new center of gravity. Her body was overflowing with energy. She could do _anything_ , it felt like.

Weiss kicked against the ceiling, and the glyph boosted her towards the ground. She spun and landed back on the floor behind Neo, her hair falling disheveled on her eyes, but she didn't mind at all. This was exhilarating!

Her euphoria came to an abrupt end when Neo turned in a heartbeat and thrust her knife. Weiss saw it collide against her arm and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the pain, but none came. Instead, she felt only a dull impact and stumbled back a little, and when she opened her eyes, her arm was intact.

Weiss and Neo looked at each other, the latter's face turning red with rage. Neo stepped forward, swinging her knife viciously again, but Weiss raised her arms in reflex and conjured a glyph, blocking the attack. She parted her arms and the glyph expanded thrice its size in the blink of an eye, launching Neo backwards, skidding across the floor.

Weiss was surprised. She'd thought it would take time to get used to this new power, but it was all coming naturally to her, like conjuring the glyphs and manipulating them was as easy as walking. Yet it also felt like this was just the tip of the iceberg… until now, she was just _playing_ with Neo.

"I think we've warmed up enough, don't you?" she said, looking at Neo confidently. "Let's end this."

She extended her left arm to the side and conjured a glyph the size of her palm. It floated there, spinning slowly, glowing in the dark… What had Winter done in the video again? She'd transformed a glyph into a whip, but that didn't seem right to Weiss. It wasn't exactly her style.

Weiss turned her hand. The glyph shrank into a tiny dot of light, then morphed outwards, taking a shape familiar to Weiss. A few seconds later, her fingers had closed around the handle of a glowing rapier, which she held before her, staring at Neo invitingly.

"You first."

Neo launched herself at her, swinging her knife. Weiss parried the blow, then sidestepped the follow-up, before taking her turn to strike back with a neat thrust. Neo stepped aside, hissing as the cold blade sliced across the skin of her arm and she dropped her knife.

"Is that it?" Weiss smiled tauntingly as Neo backed away, holding her arm. "I expected more. Not so intimidating when your victim isn't a blundering idiot, yes?"

"Thanks, Weiss," Jaune said behind her.

"You're welcome," she nodded. "Let me get rid of your bully."

She tossed her rapier upwards in front of her, and it morphed back into a glyph as tall as she was. Weiss touched it with her left hand, and it shrank to the size of her torso. An odd sensation spread across her body, like something inside her was transferring into the disc. The glyph's light went from pure white to a light blue, and five shining points appeared near its center.

Weiss pushed against the glyph, and it released five beams of light that arced elegantly through the air, heading towards Neo. The mute woman started to turn, but before she could run, the beams struck her simultaneously, and she was knocked down violently. A solid layer of ice enveloped everything but her head, immobilizing her.

Weiss lowered her hands slowly, blinking repeatedly as he stared at Neo struggling to get out of her new prison. She had to admit, she hadn't expected that. Was her Semblance supposed to do that?

"Holy crap," Jaune said, stopping beside her. "You froze her, just like that! That's so cool!" he snickered. "Hah. _Cool_."

Weiss breathed in, wondering if rescuing him had been a good decision after all. "Thank you for your support," she said dryly. "What happened, anyway? How did you manage to get into this _..._ predicament?"

"Well, you were out cold. I really thought you were dead," Jaune frowned. "I heard her coming, and… Well, I didn't want her to find your body, so I led her away. Maybe it was a silly thing to do, but I was terrified."

"Oh. That's…" Weiss paused. "Thank you, Jaune."

"Hey, it's no big deal. It's my job to protect you, right? You don't have to take it personally," Jaune said, then shook his head. "But, uh, I wouldn't mind it. If you took it personally, I mean. My protecting you. Yeah."

He leaned against a wall and smiled at her in what he must have thought was a very gallant way. Weiss certainly didn't agree.

"Right," she said, ignoring him. "Speaking of your job. How long was I out?"

"I don't know," Jaune replied. "An hour, maybe?"

"An hour? And your Commander hasn't returned," Weiss looked up at the ceiling. "That doesn't bode well at all."

"You think she's in trouble?" Jaune asked worriedly. "I mean, I thought about that too… but she's Commander Goodwitch. She's, like, _the_ _woman_."

"I'm sure she'd be flattered by your confidence in her, but she's just a person, and the odds are stacked against her," Weiss said. "We're going to the fifth floor to restore the power ourselves. Hopefully we'll find her unharmed," she looked down at Neo. "As for you…. Stay quiet. It shouldn't be too hard for you."

Neo glared at her impotently. Weiss stepped past her, grinning. Jaune followed behind her, visibly enraptured, and Weiss couldn't get the image of a lost puppy out of her mind.

"Jaune, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"From now on," she smirked. "I am _the woman_."


	5. Pay close attention

"So, how are we going to get to the fifth floor?" Jaune asked. "Last time we got ambushed by robots. Maybe we should be more careful this time?"

"More careful? I don't see why," Weiss said, marching on without looking back at him. "The game has changed, agent Arc. _We_ are in control now."

"Oh, okay," Jaune replied quietly. "Just, maybe… don't let it get to your head?"

Weiss spun around, glaring sharply at him. "What are you implying, pray tell?"

Jaune kicked himself mentally, wishing he had just kept his mouth shut. Dealing with Weiss before had been difficult enough. Now that she had superpowers, the last thing he wanted was to make her angry at him. She had, after all, softened up to him a little – or so he liked to think.

"Nothing. I'm not implying anything," he said. "It's just that we're still inside a building filled with killer robots and rank-one terrorists, and _I_ don't have superpowers. You can see why I'm a little nervous, right?"

"Is that the issue?" she smiled at him, though he had a feeling she was more pleased with herself than anything else. "Worry not, I will bring you back to your commander without a scratch. You'll soon be giving her your mission report. She will be _astounded_ by how well you carried your job."

"Thanks?" Jaune tried to smile back, but it was shaky at best. "I guess you're my knight in shining armor…"

"Hah," Weiss turned around. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Arc," she flicked her wrist, and a shining sword appeared in her left hand. "Up the stairs we go."

She walked on, and Jaune followed, shaking his head gravely. Commander Goodwitch was _not_ going to be happy with him.

* * *

 Winter stared at the palms of her hands, breathing in and out slowly. The aftereffects of her attack still raged on inside her, but they were not as draining as before. Soon, she would be able to stand up again. Activating her Semblance was another matter altogether – she felt like she wouldn't be doing that for days.

This served as a reminder. She had learned by experience, a long time ago, that Dust was a tool that was just a fraction useful as it could be devastating. That was why the regulations had to be created, and why her father was the most powerful businessman in the world. Dust was power, in more ways than one.

She had been a fool to try and manipulate it in such a raw form. Frankly, she was lucky to still be in one piece. By all rights, she and everything in a mile radius around her should be vaporized, but she'd been stronger – by the tiniest margin. Having people to protect, especially when one of those was your little sister, could make all the difference, she supposed.

But now she was paying the price, sitting uselessly against a wall, only able to watch as a bunch of lowlifes had their way with SDC property. She couldn't care less about her father and his company, but this transgression impacted something far more important, as far as she was concerned. This was Weiss' day, and that it was being ruined in this way made Winter's blood boil.

"General," she spoke, unable to contain her thoughts after an hour of fruitless waiting. "Do you truly believe Commander Goodwitch can fix this situation by herself?"

General Ironwood's expression didn't give her a clue as to what he was thinking or feeling. She had woken to him still kneeling beside her, inspecting their surroundings tirelessly, but subtly enough to not raise suspicions. If he saw an opportunity to change things in their favor, he would take it in a heartbeat. But nothing had happened, and he had stayed by her side. Despite their position, at least Winter could find solace in the fact that the general was as loyal to her as she was to him.

"I do," he said after a while. "Glynda Goodwitch has my complete confidence."

"Is that so?" Winter looked at him critically. Under normal circumstances, she would never question him in this manner, but she was too tired to measure her words. "In every instance I've witnessed you talk to her, I had the opposite impression," she paused. "The only person you seen to trust less is her superior, Director Ozpin."

"My relationship with Beacon is quite complicated, you know that, Winter," he turned to look at her. "After four years away from your family, working under my watch, I thought you'd come to understand the world is not as black as white as we'd like it to be."

"This isn't about my family, General, I assure you," Winter said. "Beacon has proven itself to be unreliable several times over the years. And that's a generous statement," she paused, some of her usual restraint coming back to her. "If I may be honest, I think they are a hindrance more often than not."

"I don't blame you for thinking that. It would be wrong of me, when I often find myself contemplating the same feelings," the General turned away, and she thought she saw the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "Perhaps one day you will come to understand why I hold the Director and his Commander in such high esteem," a moment later, he added, "For the sake of everyone, I hope you never do."

Winter looked at the general, her curiosity peaking, but she didn't ask what he meant. They had spent too much time together for her to doubt him. Whatever reasons he had, she was certain they were good. If he trusted Goodwitch, then so did she.

Her worried musings came to an end when Klein rejoined them, having asked permission to fetch more supplies to treat her. He crouched beside her and offered a wet cloth. Winter took it and laid it against her forehead, and was relieved by the cooling effect it had on her skin.

"Thank you, Klein," she said softly. "Though I still don't approve of you putting yourself in danger on my account."

"Please, Miss Winter. What else is there to do around here besides being glared at by bandits and robots? An old man needs activity, else his bones become stuck," Klein said. He shook his hand at her, offering a bottle of pills. "For your head."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Winter shook her head. "I'd rather not take anything into my body right now. I don't know what effects the Dust kickback might have had. That, and I want my head to stay clear until this over."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Klein sighed, putting the bottle away. "I overheard some of those scoundrels as I was escorted back here. It seems like Torchwick has found something big, and they're struggling to take it to their vehicle."

"Do you have any idea what that may be?" Winter asked. "You helped Weiss with the showcase preparations, didn't you?"

"Yes, but that's as far as my knowledge of this facility goes," Klein said.

"So Torchwick could have found a new technology the SDC is working on, or that is being held off for a later date," Ironwood said, his eyes returning to their captors. "For something to get such interest from Roman Torchwick… This is troubling news."

Winter couldn't agree more. She knew better than most how far the SDC was willing to go with their Research and Development. It was that attitude to lead the market, to breach new grounds, that had made possible the invention of the Dust Core, and that was only one example.

Whatever Torchwick had found, she hoped for him never to get to use it.

* * *

 Weiss stepped into the fourth-floor corridor. Somewhere to her right, she heard something move, and as she breathed in, the air carried with it the smell of burnt metal. She turned and raised her arms at once, conjuring a glyph – and blocked a laser blast that would have hit her squarely in the chest otherwise.

"Back!" she yelled. "Stairs, Jaune!"

She heard Jaune run back, out of view of her assailant. More laser fire came from the darkness, colliding against her glyph, and she felt a force pass through her body in waves. It was as if the glyph's strength depended entirely on her own. Except if she took any of those shots without its protection, she would be done for. The more she used her Semblance, the more questions she had about it.

"No time for science," she said to herself, righting her stance. Another blast hit the glyph, and this time she was driven back, her heels squeaking against the floor. Finally, she saw the Protector as it walked closer to her, its rifle pointed at her while it cooled down.

With a flick of her wrist, Weiss conjured her rapier again, then discarded her current glyph and made a new one behind her. An idea had just come to her – a crazy one, she would never even think of something like it normally – but today was a crazy day. And… well, she felt powerful. Nothing was too crazy for her to accomplish.

She jumped on the spot, turning her feet slightly so they touched upon the glyph behind her – but before that magnetic feeling could settle in, tying her to the disc, she kicked against it with both legs. The momentum she gained was greater than she had imagined, sending her rocketing towards the Protector at a breakneck speed, and she barely had time to swing her rapier as she streaked past it.

Before she hit the floor, she conjured another glyph, and it not only softened her fall, but completely nullified the impact and whiplash she should have suffered. Weiss looked behind her and saw the Protector on the ground, its left arm and head severed from the rest of its body. A cyan glow marked the trajectory her blade had made, like some sort of energy had been released on contact.

She couldn't wonder about that for long, as she heard more Protectors coming from further down the hallway. A salvo of energy blasts came soaring through the darkness, blocked by a hastily-made glyph. Weiss narrowed her eyes, making out the vague outlines of two Protectors.

The rounds kept coming, hammering relentlessly against her defense. Weiss gasped, her body being driven back she was being pulled from behind by an invisible hand. Cracks started to show on the glyph's surface, releasing an ominous light.

At this rate, the Protectors would pierce through and kill her before she could even try to strike back. She couldn't put her glyph away, not for a second, and she couldn't risk launching herself towards them like she'd done before. She would be vaporized before she even made it halfway there, _and_ she couldn't strike the two robots down at the same time.

Or could she?

What was she doing, thinking like some brute? She was better than this, _smarter_ than this. Her mind had been fine-tuned to do science, which meant learning, testing, replicating – and what had she learned about her powers so far?

Ignoring the side of her that was screaming for her to run, Weiss planted her feet on the floor, and the energy blasts stopped driving her back. Not wasting a moment, she turned her hands, and the glyph shrank dramatically. Red rounds whizzed by her head, but she didn't falter.

Reaching back for what she had felt during her fight with Neopolitan, Weiss lowered her head in concentration. A moment later, she felt it, that cold sensation bubbling deep inside her – and suddenly energy was coursing through her, surging from her head to her toes in an endless loop.

She touched the palm of her left hand to the glyph, and the energy flowed from her to it. Two beams shot from the glyph, shining brightly in the darkness, and arced around the incoming projectiles before hitting one Protector each. On impact, the robots were shaken from their aiming stances, and ice suddenly enveloped them almost completely, rendering them immobile.

Weiss breathed out shakily. She looked down at her hands and saw something swirling around them – a blue fog-like substance, but it looked more solid, and it felt _charged_. It was like…

"Dust."

Of course. She'd used Dust as the serum's catalyst. Blue Dust. So the energy she was drawing from when she made those attacks was just that. Suddenly, Weiss didn't feel so powerful. Knowing she had Dust inside her was not exactly helpful – in fact, the more she thought about it, the more nervous she felt. What if something happened to her – what if the Dust ran out, what if it was too much for her to handle, what if it affected her lifespan, the way her body worked, her-

"Behind you!"

Suddenly Weiss was rolling on the ground, a searing pain flaring between her shoulders. Composing herself, Weiss slapped a hand against the floor, freezing it and halting her momentum. She looked up and saw a Protector beside the stairway she had come from, and right in front of it, Jaune, trying to pry its rifle from its grasp, though the robot was taller than him and laughably stronger.

"Jaune, get out of there, you idiot!" she yelled, standing up carefully. She was startled by how easy it was. She had expected to be weak, but the pain was already gone – had she ever felt it at all?

The Protector's red gaze went from her to Jaune, as if it had decided he had been enough of a nuisance. It pushed down its rifle, forcing Jaune to bend down under its awesome force. Weiss heard a scream, then saw red on Jaune's left leg – and the next moment, he was tossed aside, hitting a wall like a ragdoll. The Protector turned, aiming its rifle at him.

Weiss didn't even think. She raised her arm and shot a Dust beam, like it was second nature, and the Protector stumbled back, its head enveloped in a thick block of ice. With a Glyph under her feet, Weiss glided towards the robots and swung with the rapier she hadn't realized she'd conjured.

The Protector toppled, its lights going out.

"Woah," Jaune said. "You okay?"

"Are you kidding me?" Weiss turned to look at him, letting her rapier fade away. "Why did you do that, you absolute fool?"

"I thought you were hurt! I had to do something!" Jaune exclaimed. "I mean, it shot you in the back. That's pretty bad."

"Hurt? I…" Weiss shook her head. "No. I'm tougher than that now. I have an Aura," she looked down at him, arms crossed. "I thought you knew about this stuff."

Jaune looked at her confusedly. "What the heck is an Aura?"

Weis could only stare at him in amazement. Jaune really was clueless. How could he know about Semblances, but not about Aura? The two concepts were inseparable.

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "What's wrong with your leg?"

"What? Nothing," Jaune got up, bracing against the wall. His face twisted in a painful grimace, but he covered that up quickly – but not fast enough for Weiss not to notice.

"Really?"

Weiss snapped her fingers, and a glyph appeared beneath Jaune. With a quick gesture, she spun it halfway around, making Jaune stand with his back to her. She found the injury almost immediately – a deep gash on his left thigh, with blood dripping lightly from it.

"What the… When did this happen?" she asked.

"It was that girl back there. She got me with a knife," Jaune said. "I'm fine. It doesn't hurt at all."

"Don't lie to me, Jaune Arc," she pointed her finger at his nose. "I've been leading you around this building all this time, and you never thought to inform me about this? You could have lost use your leg from all this walking. You still could, you brainless oaf!"

Jaune faltered before her, as if her words struck like physical blows. His eyes turned to his feet, which only made Weiss more furious – was he really going to turn into a child now, unable to even face her? If so, then-

"Well, why do you care?" he spoke earnestly, his eyes returning to hers. "I thought you were going to destroy my life for what I'm doing here. Did you forget that?"

It was Weiss' time to look away. She _had_ forgotten. She would rather have never remembered at all.

"Right," Weiss said hesitantly. There was something she wanted to say – an apology – but the words weren't coming out. "Just be careful. If you fall, I'm not dragging you. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jaune bent down with some difficulty and picked up the fallen Protector's energy rifle. "I'll cover your back."

"…Thank you."

Weiss turned towards the stairs, a storm brewing inside her head – but every thought slipped away when she set her foot onto the first step and heard, very far away, very faint, the sounds of a gunfight.

* * *

 Glynda ducked below a window, shards of glass flying above her as an energy blast tore through it. Holding her breath for a moment, she listened closely, trying to make out what was happening outside from the noise of the Protectors which were rampaging through the fifth floor in search of her.

Heavy footsteps. Glass shattering, wood torn apart. Wild gunshots. Right next to her, on the other side of the wall, a recharging rifle.

Releasing her breath, Glynda rose to her feet and pointed her Dust pistol, shooting an electric round straight at the Protector's face. Sparks arced all across the robot's body, the light of its visor blinking irregularly. She waited for it to fall, and soon it did – but not before it half-aimed its rifle and shot one last barrage.

Glynda felt a sharp pain her left shoulder and stumbled back into the room, reaching out for something to hold on to. Eventually she found a table and leaned against it, which gave her the opportunity to inspect her body. Like she'd thought, one of the blasts had landed, piercing narrowly through her shoulder. She had experienced enough injuries to know this was a clean wound, though it was a painful one nonetheless.

"Damnit," she kneeled on the floor, keeping away from the window, and ripped a long strip off her sleeve. Gritting her teeth, she rolled it around her shoulder, then tied it with a haphazard knot. It was far from a proper fix, but she didn't have time to worry about that.

She hated to admit, but she had underestimated Torchwick. He had predicted someone might try to assault the upper security room and had secured it more than the one on the first floor. There were a dozen Protectors roaming these hallways. She'd managed to take three of them down without being detected, but now they were all aware of her presence and were stopping at nothing to find her.

Well, she couldn't sneak past them anymore. She only had one option – to fight. It was a formidable task, but she'd faced far worse odds before. Just one year ago, she'd almost met her end on a mission, yet she had come out on top. Although… she'd had help then, from someone much more powerful than her. She didn't have that advantage today.

Oh, if Rose ever learned how she was starting to depend on her… Glynda would never let that happen, though the thought did bring a little smile to her lips.

"Right," she got up and leaned back against the closed door, holding her pistol low with her good arm. "Bring it, bucket heads."

She shouldered the door open and burst into the hallway, raising her pistol – only to be met by the glares of a half-dozen Protectors, their rifles aimed directly at her. For a second, she stood frozen, and she knew that was her fatal mistake. She turned back towards the door, but the shots had already been fired.

Red filled her vision…

* * *

 Weiss jumped from the last step, gliding across the floor as she turned onto the fifth-floor hallway. Far away from her, she saw six Protectors marching through the hallway, tearing through it as if searching for something. One of them stopped as its gaze fell onto her, and in the next seconds, all six were glaring at her, rifles readying-

Then Glynda Goodwitch appeared from a room in-between, and Weiss realized she was about to be caught in the crossfire.

Weiss raised her hands, and a glyph appeared between Goodwitch and the Protectors, protecting her from the energy barrage. Weiss gasped – the impact had been so sudden, so jarring, she almost let go of the glyph – but she planted her feet, keeping the defense up.

"Commander Goodwitch!" Jaune shouted behind Weiss. Goodwitch looked back, and for a moment, she didn't seem to know how to react. Then she jumped back into the room she'd come out from, clearing the way.

Weiss released her glyph and conjured another one instantly, this one closer to her. She hit it with both hands, unleashing too many Dust beams to count, and they rained upon the Protectors mercilessly, tearing off limbs, smashing metal, and freezing what little remained.

Weiss lowered her hands, breathing laboriously. She turned to look at Jaune and nodded. "Go make sure she's okay. I'll take care of the rest."

Jaune obeyed her without a word, running to the room to join Goodwitch. Weiss marched past the doorway, summoning her rapier – and it was good she did, for another Protector came sprinting around a corner right in front of her. She spun around, her blade flashing, and the robot fell in halves.

Two more Protectors came shambling out of the darkness, but before they could even begin to aim, Weiss had struck – one slash, two slashes, and they were in pieces.

"Security room," she muttered, walking on with a determined stride. Even in the dark, she could find her way around this place – and she wasn't afraid anymore, not in the slightest.

She arrived at the room at the very end of the hallway and kicked the door open. Inside were a trio of two men and a woman who, just a moment before, appeared to have been bored out of their minds. The lights were on, and they were facing the security cameras' feed, though they were all off save for the ones on the first floor and outside.

They noticed her presence at the same time, rising from their seats together. The woman reached for a gun on her hip, but Weiss flicked her wrist, and a Dust beam froze her wrist to the wall beside her. One of her male companions stood in place, panicking – Weiss sent him to join the woman, binding them together in a layer of ice. The last one took out a walkie-talkie from his pocket.

"Boss, we have a code-"

Before he could finish, a glyph appeared under him. Weiss pulled back her arm, and the disc dragged the man towards her. Just as they were about to clash, she swung her arm, landing a blow across the man's face with the back of her hand. He fell to the ground with a heavy _thud_ and remained there, eyes closed.

"Hmm," Weiss beat her hands together. "No need to freeze that one, then."

* * *

 Torchwick paused, taking his eyes away from his plane for a moment to fetch his walkie-talkie from the back of his belt.

"Code what?" he asked, raising the object to his mouth. "You can't just begin speaking and not finishing, you moron. What's going on?"

He waited, but no response came.

"Ah, damnit."

Well, relative to how his jobs usually went, this one had been going splendidly until now. Rather than be angry, he was pleased they had gotten so far before something went wrong. They were assaulting a SDC property, after all.

"Alright, folks, show's over!" he yelled. "Get the last stuff into the plane, and then we're blasting off! Pass the word!" he looked around, frowning. "And someone find me Neo!"

She had been gone for an unusually long time. _This_ was disconcerting. He could leave all these idiots behind if needed, but Neo? She wasn't so easily replaced.

"Nevermind, just keep on doing your thing!" he turned back to enter the facility. "I'll find her myself."

* * *

 Jaune limped into the security room, following after the Commander in silence. She hadn't done much more than throw a few harsh glances his way, but he could tell she was not happy about this whole situation. He didn't blame her, either – this was pretty much the contrary of what she'd wanted.

Weiss was inside, sitting on a chair in front of a computer. She was staring at the screen intensely, as if trying to solve a particularly tough puzzle. She didn't seem close to finding the answer. On the corner were three of Torchwick's minions, unconscious and bound together by ice.

"Miss Schnee," Commander Goodwitch said, stopping behind the heiress. "May I ask what you're doing?"

"I'm trying to bring the power back to the rest of the facility," Weiss said matter-of-factly. "Clearly, Torchwick didn't disable it across the whole building. He must have used some sort of virus."

"And you would know that how?"

"I _don't_ know, I am making an educated guess," Weiss looked back at the commander, glaring daggers. "If I knew, I would have already solved the issue, wouldn't I?"

Jaune breathed in deeply, noticing how his superior bristled at that response. Before the argument could escalate, he raised his hands and shook them to draw both women's attention.

"I can help with that," he said. "I know my way around computers."

"Do you, now?" Weiss raised an eyebrow at him. "How convenient."

"Hey, just because I'm generally incompetent doesn't mean I'm useless," Jaune protested. "Come on, get out of that chair. This is my time to shine."

He expected her to refuse, but to his surprise, Weiss got up and gestured for him to take her place. Jaune hesitated, suddenly aware that he was being watched by both Commander Goodwitch _and_ Weiss Schnee. What if he made a fool of himself? He really wanted to impress them – for different reasons each.

"Okay," he faced the monitor, cracking his knuckles. "Just, uh… do the magic…"

How did this stuff work again? He wasn't that familiar with security systems… But it couldn't be that different than what he's messed around with before. No task could ever be as daunting as _that_ little accomplishment of his, really.

That thought was just what he needed to get him going. Soon, his hands were moving on their own, his eyes darting across the screen's surface as he slowly brought the facility back to life, working around security blockages and foreign agents – Torchwick really had infested the system! But whatever he had deployed could never match Jaune Arc.

Eventually, he got so comfortable with his current task that he could afford to listen to the charged conversation happening behind him.

"You should be grateful, Commander," Weiss said coldly. "I saved your life. I would think the means how wouldn't matter that much."

"I am grateful, but the means do matter," Goodwitch replied. "I came here for a reason, after all, and you've just proven I was right. Semblance experimentation is not something to be taken lightly, Miss Schnee – I warned you before, but you went right ahead, thoughtlessly injecting yourself with your serum. I can't ignore that."

"Oh, it almost sounds like you care," Weiss scoffed. "I assure you, my formula worked perfectly. I am feeling _grand_ , Commander."

"This isn't personal. Trust me, in the grand scheme of things, I couldn't care less about you," Goodwitch said. "You can do whatever you want with your life. That's your prerogative. I do care, however, when your decisions start to affect other people's lives. You've crossed a serious line today, and by acting out like this, you're only making things worse for yourself."

"Acting out? What do you think I am, a child? You make it sound like I did this selfishly, as if the situation didn't-"

The Commander slammed her hand against the top of Jaune's chair, silencing Weiss and making him jump.

"Are you telling me you weren't selfish, Miss Schnee? That you gave yourself superpowers so you could _stop Roman Torchwick and save everyone_ , is that it?" Goodwitch said, every word ringing stronger than the last. "Don't lie to me. And for your sake, don't lie to _yourself_. You didn't inject yourself so you could save the day, you were just looking for an excuse. You wanted to use that serum. Why else would you have made it, only to keep it to yourself?" she paused. "Look me in the eye and tell me again that you were not _selfish_ , Schnee."

A heavy silence hanged in the air. Jaune wanted to look back, but the fierceness in his superior's voice told him he'd better not. And though he was feeling rather sorry for Weiss right now, he didn't think she would appreciate any support from him right now.

"I hope it was worth it for you, at least. I hope you found whatever you were looking for," Commander Goodwitch said. A moment later, she appeared at Jaune's side. "And you. I gave you clear instructions. You should have stopped her."

Jaune opened and closed his mouth. He could say he had tried, but that was only half-true. He hadn't been able to persuade Weiss. And then he'd _helped_ her.

He sighed. It was time to come clean…

"You shouldn't have trusted him if this was so important," Weiss said cuttingly. "I threw him out of the room and locked him in the hallway, then I injected myself. He couldn't even break the door down, the fool."

"Really?" the Commander looked down at him, rubbing her temples. "Oh, Arc, what am I going to do with you…"

Jaune didn't know how to feel. On one hand, Weiss had just lied on his behalf, saving his career when she had every incentive to do nothing. On the other hand, Glynda Goodwitch now believed he was even more incompetent than she did before.

"I only have myself to blame, I suppose," Goodwitch said. "At least tell me you're actually making progress bringing back the power?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, I have!" Jaune declared eagerly. "I have almost everything prepared."

"Can I get a signal again?" the Commander asked, taking out her phone.

"Uh, sure," Jaune looked back at the screen and made some adjustment. "Yep. Coast is clear."

"Good. I'll contact the Director and arrange for backup," she said, moving to the door. "When I get back, I'd better not find you've screwed up again, agent Arc."

"Yes, ma'am!" Jaune saluted her, even as a drop of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

She left and closed the door behind her, leaving him inside the room, alone with Weiss. The heiress walking around his chair to stand just beside him, tapping her fingers restlessly against the armrest.

"Uhm…" Jaune spoke, his heart beating fast inside his chest. "Weiss, why did you-"

"Don't make it a big deal," she said softly. "I was making up for threatening you before. That's all," she paused. "Besides, I couldn't let you be fired when it was me who got you into trouble."

"Eh, you could have," Jaune shrugged. "Maybe you should have."

"Is that integrity I hear, agent Arc? Aren't you full of surprises," Weiss patted him on the shoulder. "Where did you learn how to do this stuff, anyway? Is it Beacon standard training?"

"Uh, no. I… taught myself," Jaune muttered. "It's useful stuff."

"Hmm."

She walked a little away. Jaune risked a look at her, and his heart soared a little when she saw she was smiling. He thought she was upset, but it was just the contrary. Maybe the Commander had gotten to her. Or maybe _he_ had gotten to her. That would be nice.

Jaune nodded to himself, beginning to work even faster. Everything considered, today had not been so bad. Yes, he had come dangerously closed to being killed _and_ fired on several occasions, but he had met a nice girl who maybe-possibly-hopefully liked him, and he was getting to show the Commander he at least knew his way around tech-stuff. And with reinforcements from Beacon arriving soon, the danger would be over for good.

Yes, this day was on track to be a very good one, after all.

"Jaune, is this connected to the intercom system?" Weiss asked, drawing his attention to a microphone on his desk.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," Jaune said, glancing from it to the screen. "Why?"

"No reason," she shrugged. "Can it transmit to the whole building?"

Jaune looked at her suspiciously. "Yes…?"

She turned to face him. "That's convenient."

They looked at each other in silence, and in that moment, Jaune knew he had screwed up again.

"Don't-" he started, but suddenly she had a hand covering his mouth, and his feet and hands were frozen to his chair. Jaune looked towards the door in desperation, only to find it was covered in ice too.

He looked at Weiss pleadingly, but she only smiled apologetically at him.

She picked up the microphone with her free hand, brought it close to her lips, and cleared her throat.

* * *

 " _Roman Torchwick, I know you're listening, so pay close attention to what I have to say._ "

Torchwick stopped in his tracks, looking up at the ceiling in astonishment. After a few seconds of searching, he located the origin of the voice – a speaker at the corner of the inner atrium.

" _My name is Weiss Schnee. You should know who I am, considering you chose to steal under my roof today. But I assure you, you don't know me._ "

He looked around, his alarm lessening as he came to understand what was happening. This was actually rather amusing! He made sure to look at the elder Schnee sitting at the other end of the atrium, devoting her entire focus to listening to her sister's voice, and smile sneeringly at her.

" _You probably think I'm some helpless little girl. You thought I would be an easy mark. Daddy is away, she won't know what to do when the bad man comes knocking. Well, let me fill you in on the truth, Roman Torchwick._ "

" _This is already over. It was over from the start. You made the worst decision in your life when you chose to wrong me. I will come after you, and I will make you pay. Starting running now, if you value your freedom – this is your last warning._ "

Torchwick laughed. "Oh, this is precious," he wiped a tear from his eye. "I kinda want to meet her now."

" _And if you don't believe me. Well. You've seen what my sister can do, haven't you?_ _I assure you…_ "

He froze, looking at Winter again, and this time, she was smiling at him.

" _I can do even worse._ "

A reverberating noise came from the speaker, signaling the end of the speech. Torchwick remained in place, hearing the murmurs of his captives.

"Sir?" one of his lackeys approached him. "What do we do? Should we go after her?"

"…No," he fixed his tie, trying to appear calm. "The plan hasn't changed. We're going. Just… speed up."

He turned and walked out of the atrium. He didn't intend to wait for anyone, he was getting out _now_. Neo was still nowhere to be seen – he would arrange something to get her back later, as she had done for him before. He had to save his own skin first.

* * *

 Weiss put the microphone down and let go of Jaune. "Sorry. I didn't want you screaming like a little girl," she pointed at his feet and hands, shattering the ice around them. "Feel free to come with me."

"Why would I do that?!" Jaune exclaimed, bewildered. "You got me into trouble again!"

"True," she nodded. "But do you want to miss the show?"

Weiss summoned her rapier and stared at him, cocking her hip. Jaune looked hesitant for a moment, then he sighed and turned to the computer. He typed for a few seconds, and Weiss heard the sound of the lights turning back on outside.

"We'll take the elevator this time," Jaune stated.

Weiss walked to the door and freed it from the ice, then opened it and walked into the hallway. "We will. I want to catch Torchwick fast. Follow-"

"You are hopeless."

Weiss felt an impact on the small of her back, too dull to be truly painful, but she fell to her knees nonetheless, her body reacting on its own. Her wrists were brought together behind her, and she felt cold metal close around them.

"What!" she yelled. "How dare you!"

She tried to summon a glyph, but instead, she felt a shock course through her, and she fell forward, panting. A moment later, she was brought back up to her feet.

"Weiss Schnee, with the authority entrusted to me by the Supreme Director of Beacon and the World Council," Glynda Goodwitch declared. "I place you under arrest."


	6. Apple's poison

Weiss lunged forward, only to be yanked back by her cuffs. She felt her Aura acting to protect her from harm, but it was different this time. Before, it had been strong, vivid. Every time she felt it, it was like her body received a new surge of energy. Now, her Aura felt… dull. It enveloped her not as a shield, but as a prison, insulating her from her surroundings, and she feared if she put too much strain on it, her connection to it would break and it would fade away.

She hadn't had her powers for longer than an hour, and yet just the notion of losing them already filled her with despair. It couldn't end like this, not after all her hard work, after all she had endured to get to this point. She had changed – she had _grown_ – and she simply couldn't believe that suddenly wasn't true anymore.

Her despair quickly turned to anger. This was _unacceptable_. She was neither a criminal nor a child to be treated this way – she was Weiss Schnee!

Casting aside her discomfort and pain, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at the one responsible for this. The look in her eyes could have frozen over Hell.

"If this is your idea of a joke," she said, delivering each word with a pointed slowness. "You will sorely regret it."

Glynda Goodwitch looked at her as if she couldn't decide whether to be angrier or to just give up. "Have I ever given you the impression of being a comedian?"

"No. I imagine, however, that you would be as bad at that as you are at your actual job," Weiss said, ending her phrase by pulling her cuffs from Goodwitch's grip and spinning to face her directly. "Release me, and I will graciously forget about this absurdity."

She raised her wrists and shook them, beckoning for Goodwitch to go ahead and do as she was told. The commander stared for a moment, silent, before her lips parted in a slight smile.

"Perhaps _you_ should consider a career in comedy, Miss Schnee."

"You – how _dare_ you!" Weiss stepped forward, closing the space between them to stare Goodwitch in the eye. The difference in their heights was obvious, Weiss being almost a head shorter than the older woman, but she didn't let that deter her from standing her ground. "This is not a joking matter. This building – _my building_ – is infested with terrorist scum. If you don't release me, I won't be able to… _deal_ with them."

"You seem to have missed the point, Miss Schnee," Goodwitch said, her cordial tone of voice marking a jarring shift from her fiercer tone from before. "I neither want nor need your help. I regret the distress this incident has clearly caused you, but in no way does your it give you permission to inflict your own justice on the culprits below," she paused. "If it's any comfort, I am sure your company will recover from this without a problem."

"That's not – you're _arresting_ me!" Weiss yelled. "This is madness! You won't even do your job right, and you won't allow _me_ to-"

"I was doing my job just fine until _you_ came along and made a mess of it, Miss Schnee."

Weiss paused, not able to believe what she'd just heard. Glynda Goodwitch, accusing _her_ of ruining everything? The gall on that woman!

"How have _I_ impeded you from doing your job?" she asked. "I saved your life. Yours, and your partner's. Not only that, but I also cleared the security room – which was _your_ objective, wasn't it?"

"Yes. That was my objective," Goodwitch leaned towards her, forcing Weiss to take a step back. "Get to the security room. Turn back communications. Contact Beacon for back-up – and from there, the issue would be solved," she scoffed. "But it seems _someone_ couldn't contain their ego, and now Roman Torchwick knows that he doesn't have a hold on this building anymore, and he'll be making his escape even as we are speaking."

Suddenly, Weiss' defiance shrank to a tenth, and she couldn't meet Goodwitch's stare anymore. Maybe she had ruined everything. Why had she announced herself like that? What had it accomplished, aside from feeding some unreasonable need to make Roman Torchwick fear her?

Ego… Maybe Goodwitch was right.

"Okay. I… made a mistake," Weiss said quietly, raising her head again. "But I can make up for it. If you'll release me, we can work together – truly together, this time – and stop Torchwick and his men from escaping," she paused, wondering if it was sensible to add something more. "You have to admit I'm your best shot."

"No. You ruined my best shot with that stunt," Goodwitch said. "I've given you plenty of chances throughout today. You refused to take any of them. So, no, I am not working with you. Consequences, Miss Schnee. Get used to them."

 _I am used to them_ , Weiss wanted to say, but she couldn't find her voice all of a sudden. Goodwitch stared at her, waiting for a retort, but it never came.

"Good. Now that that's settled…" Goodwitch looked towards the security room. "Agent Arc, you are officially – oh, for crying out loud, where are you, Arc?"

Weiss heard a gasp, then a chair hit the floor. A moment later, Jaune appeared on the doorway, leaning against with a tense smile on his face.

"Yes, Commander?" he tried to sound confident, but the attempt was ruined by the shakiness in his voice.

"I was about to fire you," Goodwitch said bluntly. Apparently, she had reached her patience's end. "What the hell were you doing inside there?"

"I was just, uh, you know. Doing some stuff, on the system," Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, looking away nervously. "I was trying to make up for my screw up. Because I did screw up! Several times. Very badly. But, uh, I'm still… dedicated to this job! So, yeah."

" _What_ did you do, Arc?" Goodwitch scanned their surroundings with a quick turn of her head, as if expecting the walls and ceiling to start closing in on them.

"N-nothing bad!" Jaune gulped. "I, uh… disabled the Protectors remotely."

"Did you, now? That's… actually helpful," the commander nodded approvingly.

"And then… I reactivated them."

" _ARC_!" Goodwitch's face got so red, Weiss thought she was about to burst right then and there.

"I-it's fine, though! I reset their programming, so now they won't recognize Weiss or her guests or us as targets," Jaune waves his hands pleadingly. "And since Torchwick is number one on Beacon's criminal rankings, and the Protectors are linked to the Internet now… they _should_ treat him as a hostile," he paused. "Hypothetically speaking."

"Hypothetically?" Goodwitch repeated. "Which parts of that are hypothetical?"

"Just the last one! We are definitely not getting shot," Jaune said, then did a double take. "I mean, not by the robots. I don't know about the bad guys. They probably are gonna keep trying."

Goodwitch crossed her arms, glaring at Jaune as if appraising a household appliance that only worked half the time, but when it did, it worked really well.

"…Good work, agent," she said, finally. Then, without missing a beat, she turned away and asked, "The elevators should be working again, yes?"

"Yep, they should be," Jaune replied hesitantly. "Does that mean I'm not fired?"

"You just got lucky, Miss Schnee. Your mess might just be salvageable," Goodwitch said, ignoring him completely. "You might have scared Torchwick into running, but he still hasn't had enough time to escape. With the Protectors turning on him, that should cause a further delay – just long enough that, when he does make it out, our backup will be much closer and will be able to intercept him."

Jaune blinked a couple times, then nodded feverishly in agreement. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking when I did my thing."

Finally, Goodwitch turned to look at him again. "Don't push your luck."

"O-okay," Jaune stood in attention. "Should we get going, then?"

"Yes. Torchwick might be doomed, but he still has hostages. We have to make sure they're fine, and that they'll remain so until this is over."

At hearing that, a little defiance sparked inside Weiss once again. Hostages – Winter, Klein. They were still in danger, now more than ever. She opened her mouth to speak-

"No," Goodwitch cut her off, coupling that word with a harsh look. "You are not getting out of those cuffs."

"But-"

" _No_."

Weiss bowed her head, but her defiance remained – weak, faded, hidden – but it remained.

* * *

 The mood inside the atrium had changed dramatically ever since Weiss' words had echoed in the building. The hostages were not as scared as before – they had, for the first time, some hope of this situation coming to a just end for them. Their captives, on the other hand, looked anxious. Their leader had ordered a retreat, but then he had disappeared without giving proper instructions – what were they supposed to do about the hostages? And what if that girl from the intercom showed up?

The calm that had been built over uneventful hours of watching and waiting had been shattered. Nothing was certain anymore. Winter only wished she could advantage of that.

"What did your sister mean, _she can do worse than you_?" General Ironwood asked, holding her by the arm so she could stand up. The room was so tense, they didn't think sitting down was very wise anymore – anything could happen at any moment. "I thought she didn't share your Semblance."

"So did I," Winter said. "Perhaps that changed sometime since our last meeting. Or today. This has been a terrible enough day, it's certainly possible…"

"Could she be bluffing? Trying to draw Torchwick's attention away from us?" Ironwood suggested.

Winter wished she could give an honest answer, but she truly did not know. She liked to think she knew her sister well, but that wasn't true. They had seen each other a handful of times over the last four years, and even before that, they weren't that close. A precocious business life for Winter and a tense family home for both of them had made sure of that.

"She sounded irate, she did," Klein said, a worried expression on his face, and it wasn't because of their captors' twitchy trigger-fingers. "I suppose she could be bluffing, as you suggest… But the anger is quite real. I cannot remember Miss Weiss ever letting herself go like that…"

"Indeed. She sounded rather like-" Winter stopped herself. She didn't know what upset her more, that she'd thought it, or had almost verbalized it without prior consideration. "I don't think she's bluffing."

"As a General and a member of the World Council, I should hope that she is," Ironwood said gravely. "But I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't appreciate some superpowered help."

A great _boom_ came from outside the atrium, and for a moment, Winter thought the general's hope had been answered. But when the doors were slammed open, the one to walk in wasn't Weiss, but Roman Torchwick, his hat hanging off the side of his head and his orange hair looking disheveled. He didn't give as much as a glance to his subordinates, instead marching straight towards Winter, swinging his cane carelessly up and down.

"Change of plans!" he yelled. "You see, I had an epiphany – even if I escape, you, General, and that Beacon cow are going to make it for me, so! I'm taking a hostage!" The guests gasped, pressing themselves to the ground in fear. "Oh, stop it, you crybabies. I'm not taking any of you, you're _nothing_. No, I need someone… special!"

He looked at Winter and smiled. She curled a fist, but suddenly Ironwood was standing between her and Torchwick.

"You've reached the end of the line, Torchwick. We all know it. Just admit it," the general said through gritted teeth. "Whatever you try now will only make it worse for you in the future."

"I agree!" Torchwick lifted his cane so its end hovered mere inches in front of Ironwood's nose. "Which is why you're gonna get out of the way. I'd rather _not_ murder the great General of Atlas, that's a just a little more heat than I can afford. But if you force my hand…"

"Take me, then," Ironwood grabbed the cane and pressed it to his chest. "I'm more important than her. More valuable."

"Well, yes, that's exactly why I'm not taking you, they'd never leave my trail! Are you damaged in the head, by any chance?" Torchwick shook his head in disbelief. "But the point is, you aren't important to the girl who just threatened my life – the teenage one with superpowers, because I seem to attract that demographic nowadays – unlike _her_."

"I see," Ironwood said, raising his chin. "I suppose I'll be forcing your hand, then."

Torchwick groaned. He took a step back, and with a quick swing of his arm, brought his cane slamming on the side of the general's skull. Ironwood fell to the floor, spitting blood.

"General!" Winter screamed. Her eyes went from her boss to Torchwick, and without thinking, she thrust her hand to the side. One sharp conjuration, one swing, and the bastard would pay-

A sudden weakness overwhelmed her, and she fell to her knees, gasping. Her insides seemed to be fighting against her, and she felt light and heavy, cold and hot, the world becoming black then white then a rainbow blur…

Through hazy eyes, she saw Torchwick kick general Ironwood aside, then move towards her – but then another figure appeared between them, a bigger, more rotund one, which, even confused as she was, she could never not recognize.

She opened her mouth, but if the name came out, she didn't hear it. An explosion, darkness, and then her only childhood friend hit the floor beside her.

Suddenly, everything was clear again. Winter raised her head slowly to meet Torchwick's stare, and the unashamed irritation in his eyes, as if all of this was just a bother to him, turned her boiling fury cold. It didn't matter what happened to her.

She was going to make him pay.

" _World-level threat detected. All units converge. Commencing immediate termination protocol._ "

"What the-" Torchwick looked to the side, and his eyes widened. "No!"

He turned and ran, and a laser blast landed right where he had been standing before. Winter looked towards its origin and saw a Protector, its aim locked on the criminal, firing shot after shot. The other two robots which had been patrolling the atrium before joined it, and it was only because of his quick reaction and even great luck that Torchwick made it to the door and out.

Instead of chasing after Torchwick, the Protectors disengaged their aim locks and started scanning the people in the room, one by one – and soon, they detected a bunch of them were wielding high-caliber automatic firearms.

" _Seventeen level-three threats detected. Commencing immediate termination protocol._ "

And energy blast started flying again, as Torchwick's henchmen either ran or tried to fire back. Some managed to escape. Most didn't. None of those that stood their ground could even hope to damage the Protectors.

Winter didn't care in the slightest about any of that. Not about the robots, or the criminals that were falling like flies, or the worst of them all, which had escaped unscathed, or even the bloodied General Ironwood.

Her priorities were on someone much more precious to her.

* * *

 "I don't understand you."

Weiss' voice broke the silence like a rock through glass. She had remained silent until they entered the elevator, but as soon as they were in, she couldn't hold back any longer. Whether she was right or wrong – she couldn't stand letting Glynda Goodwitch act like she wasn't flawed either.

The commander had the expected reaction. An exasperated sigh, followed by a not-subtle-at-all turned of her shoulder to her. Jaune shifted his weight between his feet nervously. Clearly, being locked in a tight space with her and his superior was not a happy place for him.

"In your eyes, I'm some spoiled, selfish brat, who can't consider nor handle the consequences of her actions," Weiss continued. "I understand that. I certainly don't agree, I find it unfair, but I can see I won't be changing your mind by arguing with you. And yet you chain me with these cuffs, blocking my powers, when I could be helping you. I could be fixing the mess I made. But you won't let me, because it's _your_ job to fix it. And _I'm_ selfish. _I'm_ egotistic."

They passed the fourth floor. Weiss stared at the back of Goodwitch's beck, and though she noticed the older woman's posture stiffen, she didn't receive an answer.

"So, that's it? You'll just ignore me?" Weiss said. "That's wonderful. What a great enforcer of the law you are. _You're arrested, and there'll be no questioning it_. Is this how you treat everyone you arrest?"

"No," Goodwitch looked at the ceiling. "Just the annoying ones."

"Charming," Weiss said. "Now, will you answer me?"

They passed the third floor. Goodwitch sighed again.

"Fine. I _have_ been too harsh on you, I'll admit it. But it's only because of the circumstances," she said.

"Yeah, she's so much friendlier normally," Jaune whispered.

"I don't have anything against you in particular, Weiss Schnee. I said it before – I don't care what you do with yourself, as long as you stay within the limits of the law and common sense," Goodwitch went on. "Unfortunately, I don't hold the same attitude towards your company and its leaders."

"You hate the SDC. You hate my father. That's no news to me," Weiss said coldly. "If you didn't, the White Fang wouldn't still be a problem today."

Second floor.

"Thank you for bringing that up. You see, that's the issue I have with the Schnee mentality. You think everyone is either with you, or against you. Whoever opposes your goals can only be a villain," Goodwitch said. "The White Fang _is_ a problem. There is no denying that. But it is a delicate problem, with layers upon layers of complexity, and the more time that passes, the larger it grows. Soon, the White Fang will reach a scale to be considered a worldwide social crisis," she paused. "But you don't see it like that, and you probably never will. You don't care what consequences befall the innocent, and the misguided, as long as your whims are catered to."

"Misguided?" Weiss repeated. "That's cute."

"What is _cute_ is spreading televised fear and panic to the four corners of the globe, then flooding the market with top-of-the-line firearms and security robots – which, as we've experienced today, always work so well," Goodwitch said. "Or, even cuter, inventing a device to harvest Dust from thin air, to revolutionize the energy infrastructure of the whole planet – well, the nice parts of it only, of course. And _surely_ , such a technology could be never be twisted into anything catastrophic," she clapped her hands. "Or – and this one is my favorite – making a serum to give people superpowers, but only if they have the compatible genes! How could that go wrong? Only three percent of the world population has Semblance potential, after all. And _all_ those people deserve power."

They had reached the first floor a long time ago, but even with the doors open, they didn't leave. Weiss felt like she was a continent away, Goodwitch's voice echoing to her over the ocean's surface. Jaune was silent in his corner, playing with the collar of his uniform.

"Do you understand me now, Schnee? I _didn't_ have anything against you," Goodwitch said. "I came here hoping to be wrong, hoping that I had misunderstood things. But I see now… the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"I'm…" Weiss curled her fists. "I'm not my father!"

"No, but you're awfully close," Goodwitch sighed. "That's enough. We can talk more later, if you want to. I'll indulge you. For now, let's find your sister," she added, more quietly, "She, at least, has yet to let me down."

Goodwitch left the elevator, followed quickly by Jaune. Weiss stood frozen for a moment, that last whisper remaining with her. Why? She didn't even _like_ Glynda Goodwitch, so why should she care what she thought of her?

Maybe, after everything that had happened, Weiss had come to respect the woman, if only grudgingly. She didn't need to be friends with her, but… it would be nice to have her respect as well.

 _The apple doesn't fall far from the tree_.

If only today had been as simple as a terrorist heist.

* * *

 "All of you! Get on with it, we don't have all day!" Torchwick pressed himself against a wall, narrowly avoiding having his head blasted off by an energy round.

The way to the back exit had been filled with hostile Protectors since he had last left the plane, and more kept coming from the upper floors every minute. At this rate, everyone in his crew was going to end up dead or captured – except for himself, of course. He had no intention to go down with these idiots.

"Okay, time to burn some bridges," he whispered to himself, then looked at one of his underlings, taking careful shots at the Protectors from around the hallway's corner. Torchwick tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, you."

The man turned to look at him expectantly. "Yes, boss?"

"I got a job for you," Torchwick grabbed him by the back of his shirt. "Do your best, and sayonara."

He tossed the man around the corner, and watched the red of the energy rounds light up the walls. He heard a thump, then the sound of a body hit the floor, and finally, the Protectors' rifles recharging.

"Charge!" he yelled, hoping to get some cannon fodder to accompany him, and ran around the corner, running at the Protectors. The robots stood shoulder-to-shoulder like a barricade, blocking the door outside. Torchwick braced himself for impact, putting his shoulder out to take the brunt of it, and barreled into the middle of the Protectors.

He had just enough weight and momentum to get past, but the collision sent him stumbling, and he almost lost his grip of his cane. Looking back, he saw the Protectors turning, rifles already raised. The door was right before him, but there was no way he would make it in time – and even if he left the building, surely they would chase after him.

But just as the Protectors were about to open fire, a hail of bullets came from behind them. It wasn't enough firepower to do any real damage, but it changed their priorities, and they went back to trading shots with his (soon-to-no-longer-be) crew.

"Thank you, thank you!" Torchwick yelled over the noise of the firefight. "See ya'll, suckers!"

He pushed the door open with his arm, wincing because of his shoulder, and stumbled outside. His plane was parked in the open, the cargo doors still down, and there was still loot waiting to be brought inside. Some of his people, the ones fortunate enough to not have been inside when the heist had gone down the drain, were waiting there, looking unsure about what to do.

"What are you morons doing, just standing there like brainless apes?" Torchwick yelled, marching towards. "Forget all this stuff, we'll settle for what's already secured. Get inside, lock it all up, and then we're off!"

His crew replied with wordless noises of agreement, pushing aside loot to run inside the plane. Torchwick started going up the ramp, only to be stopped by a hand around his arm.

"Boss," one of his underlings said, standing behind him with a guilty expression on his face. "What about our guys back there? Aren't we going to help them out?"

"What? I'd sooner jump off a building!" Torchwick shook his head in amazement. "Feel free to go back, I'm not stopping you. Just don't expect me to go break the bad news to your momma later, yeah?" he rolled his eyes. "Where do I _find_ these morons?"

He stepped inside, and a moment later, the underling followed. The hangar closed behind them. Torchwick tossed his cane aside, releasing a hefty breath out of relief, and walked to the cockpit. There was already someone on the pilot's seat, preparing for takeoff.

"Alright," he said, bending next to her ear. "We're not going to Atlas. Too close, too many eyes watching the city. Countryside hideout it is," he stopped to consider his options for a moment. "We're not staying there long, though. I pissed off the General, he's gonna be gunning for me for years, I bet. Better lay low in Vacuo for a while."

"Yes, sir," the pilot nodded. They got off the ground, slowly rising above the facility and hovering for a moment as she oriented herself towards their destination. "Wait. Boss, I… think we have a problem."

"Huh?" Torchwick looked down. "Ah, crap."

The radar on the control panel had turned red. Six blips had appeared at the eastern edge, coming from Atlas.

"Is that the army, boss?" the pilot asked, her voice quivering. "Because I once had a friend that got caught stealing by some soldiers and they forced her to help out at a home for senile folk and I _really_ don't like old people, so maybe if-"

"No, that's not the army," Torchwick said. He could see the jets approaching now through the windshield, faster than he could have ever expected – which could only mean one thing. "That's goddamn Beacon. Trust me, if they get us, you're gonna wish you were dealing with old people."

"Will I really, though?" the pilot asked doubtfully.

"Yes, you will! Focus, for Pete's sake!" he gestured wildly. "Just go! Top speed, _go_!"

The pilot nodded, blasting off southwest-bound, towards their hideout. It didn't take long, however, for one of Beacon's jets to catch up to them. A blinding light shone over the windshield, and Torchwick heard a booming voice outside, though he could not understand what it was saying. Probably a warning or something like that – it didn't matter.

"We can't outrun them, boss," the pilot said defeatedly, sinking back in her chair. "Maybe we should surrender?"

Torchwick turned around, grinding his teeth to keep himself from yelling out in rage. Surrender? He would never surrender to Beacon – not again. Last time had been humiliating enough, he wouldn't allow Goodwitch the satisfaction of capturing him again.

"Sir? They're telling us to land," he heard the pilot say quietly. "I'm… I'm landing, sir, if that's-"

" _No_!" Torchwick yelled. "…I have a plan. Keep the plane flying, and _don't slow down_."

He walked to the back of the plane, his eyes going over what little remained of his crew, all in varying states of panic, and the loot they'd taken from the facility. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for: strapped securely in a corner, where it was unlikely for anyone to damage it accidentally, was the hulking set of armor he'd nicked from the Schnees' hidden basement.

"Alright," he spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. "Who's gonna help me put on that thing?"

* * *

 The first floor was like the remains of a warzone. Weiss struggled to keep herself together when she saw the bodies, and reminding herself those people were criminals didn't make her feel any better. That this had violence had happened in a facility with her name on it was surreal.

"Man," Jaune whispered to no one in particular, dragging his feet as they passed by the aftermath of a nasty shootout. A Protector stood nearby, scanning its surroundings vigilantly, while another was collapsed on the floor, its head deformed like a used metal can. "I did this, didn't I?"

"Don't feel guilty, agent. You did the right thing," Goodwitch said, walking on without sparing at glance at the bodies. "If there's something to feel bad about, it's that these people didn't choose a better path in life."

"I mean, yeah," Jaune bowed his head. "But… maybe they didn't have a choice?"

"No matter how hard things are, there's always a choice," Goodwitch paused. "Torchwick isn't here. He must have made it out," she looked at Jaune. "If you don't feel comfortable blaming them, blame the madman that led them. He deserves everything that will be coming his way."

For once, Weiss couldn't agree more with the commander. In the end, Torchwick was to blame for everything that had happened today. If he hadn't invaded her showcase, none of these people would be dead, and she would have never injected herself with the Semblance serum. It didn't justify what she'd done, but there was no doubt in Weiss' mind that if anyone deserved to be punished, it was Torchwick.

Weiss heard a faint buzz, and when she looked up, she caught Goodwitch pressing a finger to her ear and speaking in a low tone. After a few seconds, she let go and looked over her shoulder.

"Our backup has just left the Atlas headquarters. They should arrive in time to catch Torchwick," Goodwitch said. "There's nothing we can do to help them, so let's focus on what we have here. We need to check the hostages in the atrium."

"Maybe the Protectors could do a sweep of the building, see if there's any bad guys hiding?" Jaune suggested. "If I can find somewhere to operate from, I can tell them to do that."

"Good idea. You do that."

"There's a security room near the entrance hall," Weiss said.

"Alright, thanks!" Jaune exclaimed, speeding up his pace. "I'll be going now!"

"Agent Arc! Wait," Goodwitch called, and he stopped to look back at her. "Try your best not to get lost."

After a moment's consideration, Jaune gave a non-committal shrug and jogged away. As soon as he was gone, Goodwitch grabbed Weiss by the arm and walked on faster, wearing a stony expression. Weiss didn't dare speak a word – she doubted there was anything she could say to change things between them.

When they reached the doorway to the atrium, Goodwitch said, "I'll handle your guests. Go see to your sister. And don't try anything."

They went in, and the first thing Weiss saw were the bodies on the floor. There were less than before, and all were from Torchwick's crew, so at least she had that to be relieved about.

And then came the guests, gathered in a closed crowd, yelling and gasping when they noticed the new arrivals. Despite her training, Weiss couldn't stop herself from turning away in reflex. She wished she could hide the cuffs that confined her – she could already imagine the rumors that would spring from the sight of her now. No matter how today ended, her reputation would never be the same.

Thankfully, Goodwitch kept to her word, stepping forward and speaking to the crowd. Weiss released her pent-up breath, glad to have the room's attention drawn away from her, though she knew it would soon return. Taking Goodwitch's suggestion, she looked around the room for Winter.

Her heart skipped a beat when she found her kneeling on the floor, well away from the crowd, beside a fainted Klein. Weiss didn't even think, and in a matter of seconds had joined Winter, looking over their former caretaker with worry.

"What… what happened?" she asked, finding herself trembling all of a sudden. "He's not…?"

"Weiss?" Winter looked up, seemingly surprised to see her. "He's fine, for now. Torchwick wanted to take me. Klein wouldn't have it," she looked at the butler again and pointed vaguely at his torso. "Torchwick wasn't very focused, most of the blast missed. I've stabilized the wound, but if he doesn't get proper care soon…"

"Let's go now! We'll take my jet back to Atlas and get him inside a hospital!" Weiss exclaimed.

"Miss Schnee, forgive me, but you don't seem to be in a position to be going anywhere right now."

Weiss jumped at the unexpected voice. In her fervor, she hadn't even noticed General Ironwood was with them. He had a strip of his uniform wrapped around his head, and Weiss could see a stain on it growing redder by the second.

"Weiss!" Winter grabbed her arm and brought her wrists level to her eyes. "What's the meaning of this? Did Commander Goodwitch do this?"

"She did," Weiss said, a drop of shame tinging her voice. "I… may have deserved it, to be honest."

"Preposterous. I won't let this stand," Winter said, starting to get up, but she returned to her knees in an instant, wincing slightly. "General-"

"Calm yourself, Winter," Ironwood said. "We'll see to this matter at the proper time. There are more immediate matters to be settled first."

"…Of course," Winter nodded. "Forgive me, sir. I was out of line."

"Again, I won't have you apologizing," Ironwood got up. "I'll talk to the Commander, see if we're clear to leave and help Mr. Sieben."

He walked away, leaving Weiss and Winter alone. They stayed silent for a while, watching Klein together, as he would disappear in a puff of smoke if they looked away for a second.

Weiss couldn't believe any of this. Just an hour ago, she had felt on top of the world. Nothing could have stopped her. How had everything gone downhill so fast? It wasn't just Klein being injured and Torchwick nearly escaping. She could barely make sense of her own person anymore. Even when times were trying at home or at work, she'd always managed to keep a somewhat clear mindset to operate from. Now, she felt lost beyond hope. The world continued to spin, but she was stuck in place and could only let it take her wherever next it wished.

"Weiss, is it true? What you said over the intercom?" Winter asked, her voice unusually quiet. It was like old times – when they'd had to whisper to each other when Father was nearby, or else risk angering him. "Do you have a…?"

"A Semblance. Yes," Weiss said, and for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to face Winter. "I just unlocked it, so I could stop all this madness. I… had devised a formula."

"A formula?" Winter repeated, her eyes widening a bit. "But if you already had it, why did you wait so long to use it?"

"What?" Weiss whipped her head around, caught by surprise. "You… what do you mean? What I did was wrong, wasn't it? Semblance experimentation is forbidden."

"Yes, it is," Winter gazed at her critically. "But what has that got to do with anything?"

Weiss didn't know what to say. She had expected Winter to react similarly to Goodwitch, if maybe a little more leniently. But she seemed almost… proud? No, that wasn't right. Weiss knew her well enough to understand Winter would never approve of her breaking such a law.

No, Winter certainly didn't approve of her method. She wasn't proud. But she was happy – happy for her.

"If you ever need help figuring things out," Winter said. "You know you can always call me. I'll make time."

"I don't think they would allow you to tutor me once I'm locked up," Weiss noted, smiling bitterly.

"Oh, don't worry. I wasn't speaking lightly before. I _will_ resolve this matter with Beacon, no matter the lengths I have to go to," Winter stated. A moment later, she spoke again, in a softer tone, "Do you remember what I told you on your fifteenth birthday?"

_If you're unhappy… Just reach out. I can help you, if you'll allow me._

"I do," Weiss whispered. "Why?

Winter leaned towards her, blue eyes shimmering, as if pleading with her to open up. "Do you think you're ready today, sister?"

Weiss closed her eyes, her lips quivering with two conflicting responses.

Just as she summoned the strength to speak, a loud curse interrupted her flow of thoughts. Weiss and Winter turned to look together and saw Commander Goodwitch walking to them, with Ironwood close behind, a grave expression on his face.

"We've got trouble," Goodwitch said. "Winter, are you in combat shape?"

"I'm afraid not. I haven't recovered from the Dust kickback," Winter looked from the commander to the general. "What's happening?"

"I contacted Beacon as soon as we restored communications, and they sent a team to apprehend Torchwick. They intercepted his plane five minutes ago," Goodwitch paused, looking away painfully. "I've just heard from them. One of our jets was taken down… There were three agents inside."

"But that's… That's not possible," Winter said, clenching her fists. "Torchwick doesn't have an aircraft capable of taking down a military jet. He _can't_ have, we would know immediately. Wouldn't we, General?"

"It's not his plane. His crew is making their escape as we speak," Goodwitch's gaze turned to Weiss. "He's using something of yours. Some kind of armor."

Weiss frowned. An armor? Nothing came to her mind. The SDC had stopped producing that kind of technology before she'd been born. It was just too impractical. Something that could take out a Beacon jet, she couldn't think of-

"Oh, no," Weiss said. "He found a Paladin."

"A what?" Winter asked sharply. "I've never heard of that."

"They started the project a couple years ago, if I'm not mistaken, but it didn't get far before being decommissioned. It used tech similar to the Protector line, but it was meant to be piloted by a human," Weiss shook her head. "But even if he got his hands on a prototype – I can't fathom how – it shouldn't have the firepower to take down a jet."

"Well, it has, and it did," Goodwitch said in frustration. "I don't suppose there are any design flaws we can exploit to stop him?"

"I didn't work on the project. I just heard of it."

"Right," Goodwitch looked at Ironwood, meeting eyes with him. A moment later, she brought her hand to her ear. "There's nothing to be done, then. I'll call a retreat."

Weiss' stomach flipped. After everything that he'd done, Torchwick was going to escape. She'd fought so hard, gone beyond the edge to gain the power to stop him, but that didn't mean anything. He'd left her in ruins, and he wasn't going to pay for it.

"What do you mean, another – just get out! Let him go. Do you hear?! He's not worth any more lives!"

Weiss looked up at Glynda Goodwitch.

Three agents were dead. More, now. Killed by Roman Torchwick, using something built under her name.

"Commander," Weiss stood up. "Release me," she offered her wrists. "Do it before it's too late."

Goodwitch turned to look at her, and Weiss knew for certain the commander didn't hit her only because she was more preoccupied with protecting her colleagues.

"I know. This is just temporary. I'm the only one who can stop Torchwick," Weiss said. "As soon as that's done, I'll surrender to your authority. No resisting. No tricks. That's a promise."

Goodwitch let go of her earpiece. "Forgive me if I'm hesitant to trust you," she said icily. "I don't doubt you want to take Torchwick down. Of course you do. But if you think that will make me forgive and forget everything you did today, you're sorely mistaken. This is not the moment of your atonement, Schnee."

"I never said anything about atoning," Weiss shook her wrists. "I don't care what you think. I've given my promise."

Weiss wasn't surprised by the quickness of Goodwitch's response. In a matter of seconds, the commander had taken a digital card and swiped it over the cuffs, and they fell off Weiss' wrists and landed on the floor with a sharp noise.

The change was immediate. Weiss felt the power flow through her body, filling her from within, and she knew in that instant nothing could stop her.

She pushed it down.

"Do you have a jet of your own?" she asked, looking at Goodwitch.

The commander paused, as if caught off-guard. "Yes. Come with me."

She walked away, and Weiss made to follow. A hand closed around her wrist, and Weiss turned to face her sister.

"Weiss, I hate to say this, but you shouldn't go," Winter said, taking a long time to get each word out. "Father has more than enough to be angry about. Don't…" she turned away, a look of self-loathing and shame marking her face. "Don't make it worse for yourself."

Weiss stopped. Winter was right. In the span of the past few hours, her showcase – the most important event for the SDC in years – had been utterly ruined; her guests, some of the most influential people in the business world had been put in a life-threatening situation under her care; the Dust Core had been destroyed; she'd unlocked her Semblance; and she'd been arrested by Beacon.

Father had plenty to be furious about. She didn't think he would appreciate hearing she had also chased after a terrorist and fought him using her new superpowers, with the help of the Beacon agent who had just arrested her.

Winter was very right, but Weiss broke from her grasp. "Let him be angry. I'll take whatever he throws at me," she said. "This is my responsibility, and he can't stop me from fulfilling it."

"I'm free."


	7. Half red

The steel screens lifted at the end of the atrium, letting in a gentle breeze. Weiss heard a few gasps of surprise from her guests far behind her, and from the corner of her vision, she noticed Glynda Goodwitch shiver, almost imperceptibly. Funnily enough, Weiss didn't feel any shift in temperature. Maybe that was a bad sign, but she couldn't bring herself to care very much right now.

"Thank you, agent," Goodwitch walked ahead, one hand on her earpiece, while she gestured for Weiss to follow with the other. "Oversee the Protectors' sweep of the building, and when that is done, return to the atrium. Work with General Ironwood to keep the order until I come back."

Weiss only heard a faint buzzing from the earpiece, but she could just imagine Jaune at the other end, frantic, as if the world was falling apart all around him.

"No, Arc, I will not be needing your help. And no, your offer is not charming in the least, and it has not scored you any points," Goodwitch rolled her eyes. "Do as I said. Over," she took her hand away from the earpiece and looked at Weiss. "I so often find myself wondering…"

"How did Jaune Arc become a Beacon agent?" Weiss said. "I've asked myself the same. Perhaps you should ask him once this is over."

"I have a suspicion whatever his answer is, it will only lead to more questions," the Commander shook her head. "I will get to the bottom of it, but not today. I have more pressing matters to attend to, as do you."

Weiss nodded, looking ahead. The SDC plane which had transporter her guests from Atlas to the facility remained where it had been landed hours ago, seemingly untouched for the duration of Torchwick's assault. Weiss looked around for Goodwitch's jet, but it was nowhere to be found.

"I thought you said-"

Goodwitch snapped her fingers, and suddenly, there was a fighter jet beside the SDC plane. "You didn't think I would leave a Beacon Quinjet exposed, did you? If Torchwick got his hands on one of those…"

"Right," Weiss said. "But can we catch up to him in time?"

"I'm afraid the damage is already done," Goodwitch muttered darkly. "I have my men flying circles around Torchwick, keeping him occupied. Every second that passes is a second they could be struck down," she clenched her fists. "No, we won't make it in time, but I will not slow down until my agents are safe."

The back of the jet lowered like a ramp, and the commander walked inside with a furious stride. Weiss followed in silence, holding on to that cold determination she had felt back inside the atrium, when Winter had asked her to stop.

It wasn't a hard task. Not at all. Torchwick was going down, and she was going to be the instrument of his defeat.

* * *

 " _Holy-"_

Torchwick closed his lips forcefully, feeling his stomach rebel as he spun up and down like a marble. He hadn't expected that energy blast to cause so much recoil – but then again, why hadn't he? This armor packed so much power, it was only natural that there would be some kickback.

" _Woohoo!_ " he shouted, his voice carrying through the dusking skies with a robotic quality, like it had been out through a multitude of filters until it was nearly unrecognizable. " _Baby, where have you been all my life!_ "

He flexed his knees so his legs were totally straight, and two highly concentrated flames burst from the soles of the Paladin, halting his momentum and bringing him to a standstill. Torchwick took a moment to reorient himself, while also watching his surroundings through the digital visor of the suit.

The Beacon pigs hadn't given up on catching him, even after he'd destroyed two of their jets by ramming them, tearing through their steel and escaping unscathed from the explosions that followed. No, they had to remain dutiful and righteous, or whatever crap they believed, instead of acting like rational human beings and getting away while they still had the chance.

Not that he cared that much about what they did. Torchwick was willing to let them go, it was much less of a hassle, and he was already Beacon's top target, surely. It didn't matter if some of them got away, he was going to be hunted down regardless. But if they refused to go… well, he didn't have anything against dishing out some pain and mayhem. He was happy to!

" _Alright, ya pricks, get a hold of this!_ "

He lifted the suit's right arm and pointed in the general direction of one of the jets, charging up the Dust cannon installed where its hand should be. With how fast they were going, there was no way he would ever land a shot on any of the jets, but he was learning the ropes about his new toy quick – there was a targeting aid in the Paladin's interface, and it had already made a successful lock on one of them.

" _Warning shot!_ "

He closed his hand, and the cannon fired. Once more, the recoil launched him backwards, but this time he was prepared and immediately ignited the boot thrusters to nullify it. Torchwick grinned as he watched the incandescent Dust streak through the sky, in route to collide with the targeted jet. He saw the pilot's eyes widen at the other side of the windshield, and then the blast clipped the jet's left wing, demolishing it and releasing a cloud of smoke into the air.

" _Oops, wasn't much of a warning after all! Sorry!_ " Torchwick laughed, turning to hover horizontally so he could watch the jet's hopeless descent. In less than thirty seconds, it would hit the ground. " _Let me put you out of your misery!_ "

He pointed the cannon again and fired a quicker shot straight down. It reached the jet and pierced through the middle of it. In an instant, the aircraft and everyone inside it disappeared in a fiery explosion. The debris hit the ground a moment later, spread out through the fields to join his earlier victims.

Torchwick straightened in midair and looked down at the cannon. For a moment, he was speechless. So much power… It was so very useful, but it was also scary as hell. He would have to go through every length to make sure this Paladin was never used by anyone but him – he couldn't have his people getting any funny ideas about who held the power…

The Paladin's interface turned red, and a beeping noise surrounded him. Torchwick looked up and saw yellow sparks flashing before him. It took him a moment to realize those were bullets bouncing off the Paladin's head, from where he was piloting. His eyes straightened, and the system locked on his offender – one of the Beacon dogs had gotten angry at seeing another of his fall and had broken formation to attack back, quite uselessly.

" _Well, well. If that's how you want it…_ " Torchwick readied the cannon again. " _Let's play._ "

* * *

 Goodwitch slammed her hand against the Quinjet's panel, cursing loudly.

"What?" Weiss asked, leaning on the shoulder of her seat. "Did something-"

"He got another one. At this rate…" the Commander cursed again. "Damnit! What's in that goddamn machine, Schnee?!"

"I- I've already told all I know," Weiss said, beginning to feel sick. "The Paladin shouldn't have this much power. T-truthfully, it shouldn't even get off the ground, since it's not fully-"

"Should, shouldn't, it doesn't matter! It's taken nine lives already," Goodwitch said, gritting her teeth. "Let's hope there will be any left to save when we get there." She took manual control of the Quinjet and pushed, as if that could make it go above its already breakneck speed.

Weiss shook her head, stepping away from the Commander. If only she hadn't alerted Torchwick, none of this would be happening. There were no excuses anymore. People were dead because of a selfish decision she'd made, and there was nothing she could say or do that could change that. In the end, she and Torchwick might not be so different.

… _No_. She was not going to think like that. She might be selfish, reckless, egotistic, but Weiss would _never_ be half as bad as Roman Torchwick. He was evil. Pure evil. That was the only thing that was clear to Weiss today.

That, and that she was going to make him pay.

"Schnee!" Goodwitch shouted. "Is that…?"

Weiss returned to the front of the Quinjet and looked through the windshield. She saw a flash of colors sear through the dark sky, nearly hitting a Beacon jet. Her eyes flew to its point of origin – and she saw it.

It was bigger than she remembered. Easily thrice the size of the average person, the Paladin hovered in midair, the cannon on its right arm releasing an incandescent glow as it recharged from its missed shot. It was _not_ a good sight. How was she supposed to win against something like that?

"That's the Paladin. That's Torchwick," Weiss stood up straight, steeling herself. "Open the hangar."

Goodwitch looked back at her in doubt, but with a flip of a switch, the back of the jet opened, and air came rushing in. "What's your plan?"

"I'll try to take him out from afar. I'll stand in the back – keep me turned towards him so I have a clear shot," Weiss said. "If worse comes to worst, I'll jump out and engage closer."

"You are _not_ going to jump out," Goodwitch stated vehemently.

"I'm not looking forward to the possibility either," Weiss waved her off. "Just do as I said."

Weiss made her way to the hangar, holding on to anything close, or else the tormenting wind knock her off her feet. Goodwitch's turning the Quinjet only made matters worse. Eventually, however, Weiss made it nearly to the edge and was faced with the open sky before her. Huge flames rose from the countryside below, mingled with smoke and the smell of melted metal.

She closed her eyes, for a moment wanting to run back and hide, hide from Torchwick, from the. What was she doing? This was not her place. Her place was to be working on a lab, or dealing with SDC associates, or _anything else_ _but this_. She was not a fighter, much less a superhero. If her father knew…

"Schnee! What are you waiting for?!"

Weiss opened her eyes. Torchwick was hovering directly across from her, still unaware of her arrival. The Paladin's cannon was charging, following the trajectory of the closest Beacon jet. Soon, another tragedy would happen.

"Right."

With a spin of a finger, a glyph appeared beneath her feet, connecting her to the floor of the plane. Maintaining her balance was suddenly effortless. She raised her left arm, pointing it towards the Paladin, and conjured another glyph. Focusing everything she had on that point of contact with her palm, she felt the Dust flow from within, more than ever before, so much that she felt the glyph would shatter at any moment. And when she _knew_ that it was about to do so, she let go… and tapped a lone finger to it.

For an instant, she was blinded. The white light soared towards Torchwick, bright as a shooting star, and struck the Paladin's cannon arm, just as he shot. The blast missed its target wildly, shooting off into the void of space instead. The right half of the Paladin was covered in ice, and it started to veer to the side, only kept hovering by one thruster.

" _What!_ " Torchwick's shout was music to Weiss' ears. " _What is this?! No no no no – break it, stupid thing!_ "

The Paladin's unfrozen arm swung against itself, slamming the ice again and again, each impact producing more cracks. Finally, the ice shattered, and the Paladin flew properly again. Torchwick spun in place, soon coming to face the Quinjet and Weiss.

" _You! You're the Schnee brat!_ _What the hell are you doing here?!_ "

"Isn't it obvious?!" Weiss shouted back. "I'm keeping my word."

" _Oh, are you? And with those – those little powers, you're going to make me pay, yeah?_ " Torchwick paused. He sounded shaken, but maybe Weiss just wanted to interpret him that way. " _Well, tough luck! I've got some power of my own – a gift from you, really, so thank very much – and goodbye!_ "

He aimed the Dust cannon, and in the next second, a blast was coming towards the Quinjet. No matter how fast Goodwitch reacted, she would never be able to get them out of the way in time.

Weiss planted her feet against her glyph and raised her arms, conjuring another. It came just in time – the impact felt like a broken dam was pushing against her, so violently every fiber of her being was pushed to its limits so that she wasn't carried away and turned into nothing.

When the blast ended and Weiss was able to let go of her shield, she was gasping and on the verge of falling to her knees, but she was still alive, and so was Goodwitch.

" _Well, then,_ " Torchwick said, aghast. " _You did it. I gotta admit – you've got spirit, princess. But from the looks of it, you can't do that again, can you? Just you wait until I'm recharged…_ "

"Schnee!" Commander Goodwitch called from the cockpit. "He's right. You can't protect us against a repeated attack. I'm pulling out-"

"No!" Weiss shouted. "I can do this!"

She raised her hand, shooting another Dust beam, much smaller than the last one, which arced around the Paladin and hit it in the back of the head. Torchwick's grunt thundered over to her, but in a matter of seconds, he had freed his armor from the ice.

" _You know, you're really getting on my nerves_ ," Torchwick declared. " _Time for you to say goodbye._ "

He pointed the cannon at the Quinjet, and Weiss prepared to form another shield. The cannon charged, and charged, and charged…

" _Well, uh… That's taking a lot longer than before,_ " Torchwick said, clearly annoyed by the mishap. " _Whatever. I'll just do it the old-fashioned way._ "

He bent the Paladin's legs, pointing the thrusters backwards, and came flying towards the Quinjet, arms raised to protect the Paladin's head and, more importantly, the man himself in the pilot's seat.

"Up!" Weiss shouted. "Quick!"

Goodwitch didn't need to be told, she was already doing it. The jet rose above the Paladin, getting out of its trajectory with time to spare. Torchwick started to turn, but his momentum was so great, combined with the weight of the Paladin, it took a full minute for him to start back towards them.

"Again, up!"

"No!" Goodwitch shouted. "We're getting out-"

" _UP!_ "

Goodwitch pulled up so suddenly, Weiss thought they had been hit, but then she saw the Paladin soaring past them, just beneath her.

And without a second thought, she jumped.

As she fell, Weiss turned, ignoring the rushing air around her and her hair whipping against her face, and thrust a hand towards the Paladin above. The Dust beam struck the bottom of its left foot, freezing the thruster completely. Torchwick yelled in panic as he slowly lost control of the Paladin's trajectory.

Weiss spun upright and summoned a glyph beneath her, landing on it gracefully. She looked up at the Paladin – she couldn't let up! – and fired another beam with a flick of her hand, and without waiting to see its results, boosted herself off the glyph, only to summon another higher up to cling on.

The Paladin was compromised, so Torchwick wouldn't be getting anywhere. That meant she had the chance for a clean shot – but first, she needed to get close to him. Ignoring how distant she was from the ground, Weiss jumped again, boosting herself from glyph after glyph, occasionally shooting to keep the Paladin frozen, until she was level with its head.

Weiss stopped on her latest glyph, looking towards where Torchwick was. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there, hidden inside the Paladin's head. She didn't know how thick it was and from what metal the Paladin had been made, but her blade had cut through the Protectors before with ease. This would be no different.

Focusing, Weiss conjured her familiar rapier and set her eyes on the Paladin's head. Feeling like the world was in slow-motion, she jumped off, then kicked against the glyph – and went rocketing towards Torchwick, readying a precise slash.

Just as she reached the head, the Paladin's left arm, previously frozen to its torso, broke free. It swung towards her – too huge for her to dodge, too fast for her to change trajectory –

  _hit hit hit hit_

 -and suddenly, she was falling, and half the world had turned red-

  _break the fall break the fall break the fall_

 -she waved her arm helplessly, forming a Glyph that slowed her down, but she slid off it, and-

  _dead dead dead_

 -she hit the ground.

  _pathetic_

* * *

 Everything was numb. Her fingers twitched with the sensation of Dust lingering around them, faded, unfocused. Inside, she was cold – colder than she'd ever felt before, like an icicle had been run through her heart.

Her ears buzzed, and through that disorienting noise, she heard a voice, calling out her name. She tried to turn away, but her body didn't respond to her will. Maybe if she just laid there, it would pass. Everything would pass. That voice would stop calling, she'd drift to sleep, and wake up back home, to resume her perfect, risk-free little life.

"Schnee!"

Weiss opened her eyes, only to close them immediately as a sharp pain exploded in the area of her left eye. Suddenly, she was aware something was dripping down her cheek. She whimpered and reached for her eyes instinctively, but a hand closed around her wrist, stopping her.

"Don't touch it," she should recognize that voice, she should, but with the buzzing and the pain and the cold, she couldn't, she simply couldn't. "That's the last thing you want to do. Relax. There's nothing you can do about it – you can't fight it, so don't try to. _Relax_."

Weiss tried to speak, but all she managed was another whimper. The hand around her wrist loosened, then let go. Weiss fought the urge to touch her face, instead slowly lowering her hand to lay on her belly.

"Good. Now, I'm going to ask you to do something, and it's going to hurt, but you have to do it, okay?"

Weiss made a noise, hoping she would be understood – _yes, please, anything to make it better_.

"Okay. Open your eyes."

"N-n _oo_!" her voice returned so suddenly, she even scared herself. "No… I can't…"

"You can. Come on, Schnee. I know you can. You're stronger than this."

Was she? Yes, she was. She was. She needed to be.

Clawing at the dirt at her sides, she did it. Her right eye opened easily and remained open, her vision crystal clear from that side. But with her left eye, it was a struggle – the pain worsened as her eyelids parted, twitching wildly as if to close it again, and all she could see from it was red.

"There. Keep it open," her helper said. "Don't panic – I'm going to clean the blood from your left eye so you can see. It will…"

"Hurt," Weiss spat bitterly. "Just do it. Don't…"

"Okay. I'm doing it now. Keep calm…"

A cloth fell on her left eye, brushing against it. The pain was so great that, for a moment, she was unable to think, her back arching involuntarily, a silent scream escaping her lips. A hand on her shoulder kept her pressed to the floor. Weiss clenched her right hand into a fist, and the cold inside her flowed to it, gathering into one magnified point, about to be unleashed-

Then the cloth was lifted, and she closed her eyes. Settling down, she breathed out evenly, and unclenched her hand. She opened her eyes again, and saw Glynda Goodwitch kneeling beside her.

"You were lucky," the Commander said, exhausted. "Somehow, your eye wasn't damaged. I can't be sure, but it seems your vision is fine. But there will be a scar," she sighed. "You should get checked by a professional, just to be sure."

Weiss nodded. Drawing what little strength she had, she sat up. She was still weak, but not as much as before. She could think clearly again, and the cold wasn't so overwhelming. With a little effort, she thought, she might even be able to use her Semblance again.

"I can't stress how lucky you were, Schnee," Goodwitch insisted. "If you hadn't broken the fall at the last second, your eye would have been the least of your concerns. Your Aura protected you, but it broke, surely. You must have taken some of the impact on your own."

"I had him," Weiss whispered. "If I had been just a second faster…"

"You were stupid to even try that. Jumping out, when I strictly told you _not to_ …" Goodwitch sighed. "Well, at least you did some damage."

"I did?"

Weiss looked around. She had fallen close to one of the fallen jets' wreckage. The fire still burned strong, like a beacon in the night. "Your men… Did you check on them?"

"I did not," Goodwitch muttered. "They are not as resilient as you."

"Where's Torchwick?" Weiss asked, bristling. "How long was I out?"

"Not long. I cloaked and went after you as soon as you fell," the Commander said. "I lost sight of Torchwick. The other agents have retreated on my order, so he must have taken the opportunity to escape," she paused. "That's _good news_ , whether we like it or not. In this condition, you can't-"

A thundering _boom_ interrupted her.

The Paladin fell on its feet just twenty meters from them, the light of the fire reflecting off its metal husk. Blocks of ice still clung to several parts of it, but its left leg was mostly free, as was its cannon arm.

The head opened, and Torchwick appeared in the cockpit. His hat had fallen sometime during the fight, revealing disheveled hair, and his face was so red it seemed like he would burst at any instant.

"That's _it_!" he shouted hoarsely. "I've had enough of you Beacon pricks and your little girls! Enough with professionalism – I'm wiping you off the face of Remnant, if that's the last thing I do!"

He lowered the head, disappearing behind it, and thrust the cannon forward. Weiss saw Dust converging inside the cannon and stood up hastily, nearly falling sideways with the sudden movement. She raised her hands, hoping she still had the strength to protect herself.

The blast that ensued was much weaker than the ones the Paladin had fired before. In fact, it was almost pitiful in its size and intensity – but it almost broke her glyph nonetheless. Weiss reeled back, her feet forming trails in the ground. When the pushback finally ended, she started to collapse, but Goodwitch caught her.

"You can't fight," the Commander said. "Run and hide. I'll handle this."

"I'm not running," Weiss broke from her grasp. "I can stand. Let me fight."

"You're unbelievable," Goodwitch shook her head. "Let go of your pride! You're at the verge of collapsing, how are you going to fight him?"

"This is not about pride," Weiss said. She lowered her head, eyes focused on Torchwick and the Paladin. "Watch him."

Goodwitch followed her stare, and soon Weiss saw realization dawn on her face as she came to the same conclusion as her. The Paladin's cannon's had been getting increasingly weaker for the duration of the skirmish – now, it seemed it wasn't even working anymore, no matter how hard Torchwick tried.

"It's out of energy," Goodwitch said.

"Yes. But not entirely. It didn't fall to the ground. It had enough energy left to land and fire another shot," Weiss paused. "We need to drain the last of its reserves."

Goodwitch turned to look at her. "We?"

"Yes, well. You were right," Weiss said. "I'd be glad to lay down and sleep. But I can't really do that right now, can I?" she flicked her wrist, conjuring a miniature glyph on the palm of her left hand. "So, we work together. Deal?"

For a moment, Goodwitch just looked at her, as if trying to find some hidden meaning in her words. Weiss didn't reply with a defiant look, or a sharp rebuttal, as she would have done before. She simply waited, even as Torchwick ceased trying to get his cannon to work and set his eyes on her again, for the Commander to be done with her silent judgment, no matter the result she came up with.

Finally, Goodwitch nodded and stepped forward, drawing a Dust rifle from her back. "I'll do the heavy lifting. You cover me."

Without waiting for an answer, Goodwitch opened fire, hitting the front of the Paladin with a barrage of Dust pellets. Torchwick yelled furiously and charged towards them, drawing out the Paladin's arm to strike.

Weiss conjured a glyph beneath her and Goodwitch, then swiped her arm sideways. The glyph split in two, each sliding to one side to carry them out of harm's way. The Paladin sped past, then started to turn back, sparks flying from its feet as they dragged against the ground.

" _You're so_ annoying _!_ " Torchwick yelled. He jumped towards Goodwitch, and Weiss slid her away with her glyph.

If the Commander was surprised by the maneuver, she didn't let it show. She kept her rifle trained on the Paladin, firing burst after burst with only the shortest intervals to keep the weapon from overheating. While the rounds had done little to nothing at first, they were now starting to tear at the armor's thick exterior.

" _Stop it!_ " Torchwick brought the Paladin's arm down towards Goodwitch, intent on grabbing her, but Weiss raised the glyph in accordance. Now above the Paladin's head, Goodwitch aimed at the left shoulder and let loose another burst.

A screeching sound echoed across the burning fields, and the Paladin's left arm fell to the ground. Sparks erupted from the torn joint. Weiss made to send Goodwitch away to a safe distance – but suddenly the pain and exhaustion caught up to her, and she felt her knees buckle. Her hold on the Commander's glyph broke, and Goodwitch fell to the ground on her back, losing her rifle.

" _Hah! Now you're done for!_ " Torchwick drew close, raising the Paladin's cannon arm above its head. " _Lay still and I'll crush you... very gently, Commander!_ "

Reaching for the last well of energy she had in her, Weiss formed her rapier and made a glyph behind her. She didn't have the strength nor the time to make a precise strike, she'd have to go in blind and hope for the best.

She jumped and kicked against the glyph. As she soared towards the Paladin, her mind flashed back to what had happened just minutes ago – the searing pain, her world red – but she closed her eyes and cast that memory aside.

She swung the blade, and collapsed like a play doll.

A moment later, she heard metal hit the floor. Struggling to her knees, Weiss managed to turn her head to look over her shoulder.

She had slashed just above the Paladin's waist, cutting from one end of it to the other cleanly. Its torso, along with its remaining arm and head, had fallen sideways on the floor, while its legs remained standing.

Despite everything, Weiss managed to smile. She had never felt so much pain before, and had never been so scared, but the relief was just too great. And, if she was being honest with herself, she was proud, too. She'd done it. Torchwick was-

Standing behind her, holding his cane above his head with both hands, murder in his eyes. Suddenly, Weiss felt cold, and not because of the Dust inside her. She looked up at him – and he looked down at her – and she knew what was about to happen.

"Be seeing you, Ice Queen."

He swung down.

_BANG._

A Dust round hit the side of the cane, and it flew out of Torchwick's grasp and went spinning away, falling somewhere were neither he nor Weiss could find it. Before he could do anything, Goodwitch was behind him, forcing him to kneel and closing a pair of cuffs around his wrists.

"Roman Torchwick, with the power entrusted to me by the Supreme Director of –" Goodwitch stopped, letting go of him and raising a fist. "Oh, forget it."

She slammed her fist against the side of his skull, and Torchwick collapsed. Weiss looked at him in astonishment – and flinched when, after not even ten seconds had passed, he let out a loud, drawn-out snore.

Goodwitch stepped up to her and offered a hand, but Weiss could only stare at her, not knowing whether to be amazed or scared out of her mind.

"Trust me," the Commander shrugged. "He knows the drill."


	8. The scar

She traced her fingers over her eye, feeling the slight break in her otherwise unblemished skin.. It wasn't a world-shattering, all-consuming pain anymore, but more of an annoyance. Mostly it was due to the medication she'd been prescribed, but time also had its part in the healing. Maybe one day, in a few weeks, a month perhaps, she wouldn't even feel the scar anymore.

 _How ugly_.

Weiss stepped away from the mirror, but kept her hand close to her face. Maybe if she forgone her ponytail in favor of a looser hairstyle… she could let her hair fall in front of her eye, like Winter did sometimes, and nobody would be able to see scar. A weak solution, and she felt quite silly just thinking about it…

…but it didn't feel so silly when she remembered she would eventually have to leave this bathroom, this hospital, and go back into the world.

The door opened. Weiss looked at the mirror and saw Winter come in, stopping before her. She looked at Weiss with a pitying expression, which she quickly corrected – but not quickly enough to not be noticed.

"Are you finished?" Winter asked, all business. "I'm sorry, but you've been here for quite a long time, sister."

"It's fine. I just lost track of time." Weiss shook her head, letting her hair fall on her shoulders. She stared at her reflection for a moment, then took her binder from the sink and fixed her hair into a ponytail.

She looked at her reflection again. This way, the scar stood out painfully, a vibrant red line in a sea of white. She stopped herself from grimacing – even if Winter knew what she was going through, Weiss was still too proud to show it so easily.

"This will do," Weiss said, forcing some confidence into her voice. She turned to face Winter. "Is Klein ready for a visit?"

"He is," Winter said. "Let's go."

Weiss followed her sister out of the bathroom, letting her lead the way through the hospital's corridors. The floor was mostly empty, but funnily enough, Weiss resented that. She would have preferred a crowd. At least that way, she wouldn't stand out so sorely.

"What about you, sister?" Weiss asked, distracting herself. "Feeling better?"

"I was released yesterday," Winter replied. "Truthfully, the staff had not legitimate reason to hold me. The doctors had never seen symptoms like mine, and to be frank, after all the stress about Torchwick and Klein was over, I was feeling perfectly fine. I only stayed because the General insisted."

"He did?" Weiss could imagine it. From what little she'd seen of him, James Ironwood seemed very loyal to his soldiers. With Winter being his right-hand woman, that loyalty must be even greater.

"He threatened to take away my badge if I did not obey," Winter said, sounding a little bitter. "That was unnecessary, of course. I also stayed for you and Klein."

Despite everything, Weiss couldn't help but smile. Her world had been turned upside down, and for the last three days, she'd been living meaninglessly, lying in a bed, watching time go by. But Winter was here, with her, _for_ her, and that meant something.

The world hadn't fallen completely apart, after all.

"Here's his room," Winter said, stopping before a door. "I take it you haven't visited him yet?"

"I haven't been able to. The doctors wouldn't let me, no matter how much I argued."

"Well, it's their job to make sure you recover, and that means stopping you from hurting yourself," Winter said patiently, opening the door.

Weiss stood beside her, hesitant. She knew there was nothing to be nervous about, but she couldn't help herself. This was a strange situation she'd been thrust upon, where her sister was overcharged with Dust and her butler was attacked by Roman Torchwick.

"Go on, Weiss," Winter ushered, patting her on the back. "He won't bite."

Weiss nodded, walking inside with measured steps. She stopped beside the bed at the center of the room. Klein was sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling without a hitch. His torso was wrapped in bandages, and his right arm was connected to an IV machine next to him.

"I thought he was awake?" Weiss asked.

"He was when I left him. He must have fallen asleep since then. I did take a long time to fetch you," Winter said. "It must take a lot of him to stay awake. It's probably better this way."

"Yes, well…" Weiss faltered. "I'm not sure what I'd say to him anyway. He'd probably refuse to accept my apologies."

"And he would be right to," Winter crossed her arms, looking sternly at her. "You didn't shoot him. Roman Torchwick did - the man you helped Commander Goodwitch arrest. Or has your memory of that slipped away?"

"If I hadn't scared him, Torchwick wouldn't have shot Klein, nor killed all those Beacon agents. There would never have been any need for me to stop him," Weiss said, clenching her fists.

"You can't blame yourself for the actions of a madman," Winter said.

"Yes, I can! Don't lie to me, Winter. I don't want that," Weiss turned away. "I was stupid, and that's the truth of it. End of discussion."

Winter walked up from behind her, wrapping her in a gentle hug. "You have to realize, it's okay to make mistakes sometimes, even if they're costly. That's part of living, Weiss."

Weiss closed her eyes. How could Winter say something like that? Lives had been lost because of her. Klein had almost died. It didn't matter what her intentions were, or how sorry she felt today.

Responsibility. That was one word that haunted her these days.

"Whatever," she said tiredly, shaking out of Winter's embraced. "The doctors released me. I'm free to go to."

"That's good," Winter said. "I'll drive you home."

"I'm not going home. I'm going to work."

The disapproval in Winter's face was obvious, but Weiss paid her no mind. If she went home, all she would do is lay in a different bed, with nothing to put her mind to except self-pity and loathing. Home was the last place she wanted to be.

"I'll drive you to the SDC, then," Winter said. "But, if it can be helped, I won't set a foot inside that building."

"That won't be a problem," Weiss shook her head. "I can arrange my own transportation."

"Weiss-"

Weiss didn't let her finish, exiting the room and closing the door behind her. She could visit Klein later.

Today, it was just too much.

* * *

 Torchwick huffed, looking down at his wrists in contempt. Were those the same cuffs Goodwitch had put him in a year ago? They couldn't be, surely. The Commander was not as petty as to go looking for them specifically. He was just finding things to be angry at.

Who wouldn't be angry? He'd found his golden mine and taken his share of it, only to lose it a moment later. What he'd stolen from the Schnees was gone, taken to one of his Atlas hideouts by his people, who, without his guidance, would very soon make a mistake and get themselves caught by Beacon. Half his people he'd taken on the raid were either dead or captured. His reputation was going down the drain after being foiled twice by the same people.

But what pissed him off the most – by _far_ – was how close he'd come to making it, only for his hopes to be crushed by that _girl_. Weiss Schnee. He'd wielded power like he'd never felt before, in the form of the Paladin armor, but she'd defeated him anyway. From everything he'd researched, she was supposed to be nothing more than a spoiled brat with an overinflated ego.

Well, the latter had turned out to be true, he supposed. But that didn't make his losing any easier. He hated her. He hated Beacon. He hated Glynda Goodwitch. And he hated Red, for starting this baffling trend of superpowered teenage girls.

"Good news, Roman."

He looked up grudgingly, meeting eyes with Glynda Goodwitch. She had a smug look on her face, like she'd just won the lottery – or whatever her equivalent of pure joy was. Behind her, her jet was starting up, and General James Ironwood stood farther away, his arms crossed in disapproval.

"The General won't be getting you, not just yet," she said. "You're all mine, and I'll have you telling me all your little secrets until there's nothing left to be said. _Then_ , he can have you."

"Frankly, Commander, I am offended," he raised his chin. "You're assuming a hell of a lot, thinking I'll just tell you everything you want. I'm _the_ Roman Torchwick, not some lowlife shoplifter."

"Oh, I know, and that's what makes me giddy inside," Goodwitch smiled, taking hold of his arm. "I think we're going to be getting very familiar with each other. But, for now…" she brought him up, then shoved him towards the jet. "Let's get you to your new home."

"I despise you. I despise you and everything you stand for!" he exclaimed, trying to spit on her, but she dodged without a care. "You are a pain the ass. You and all your little girls."

"If it's any consolation," she grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him inside. "They're quite a pain for me too."

* * *

 Weiss stood before the door, one hand frozen in the air, prepared to knock. The courage she'd grown on the way here was all but gone. She knew she had to do it eventually, and that by getting ahead of the problem, she was making life much easier for herself… but the fear didn't care about that, and she hated it. She'd changed, become stronger, but in the end, did any of that matter at all?

She lowered her hand, glaring at the door. This was the reason she'd come to work, wasn't it? Not just to distract her mind, but to talk to him. He hadn't come to her, so she had to come to him. That was the unspoken truth she knew by heart, which he must know too. Knocking on the door said to him that she was fine with it. It was like a surrender, when the battle hadn't even begun yet.

"…Oh, who cares?" she whispered, angry at herself.

It didn't matter what he thought. Hadn't she said that much to Winter? If Father wanted to belittle her with this challenge, then so be it. She just had to rise above it.

She knocked on the door, and without waiting for an answer, turned the doorknob and went inside.

He was sitting in his chair behind his desk, facing away from her towards the window at the back of the room. A glass of wine, half-full, was at the table. Weiss paused at the sight of it – he never drank during work hours, which meant…

"Father," she greeted, unshaken, and drew a chair back to sit at the other end of the desk.

"Weiss. I was wondering when you'd make your appearance," he turned his chair around and grabbed his glass, spinning it slowly. "What took you?"

There it was. Confirmation. He had been waiting, possibly for days, for her to come to him to explain herself. He probably expected her to ask for forgiveness, too. By the look on his eyes, Weiss could tell she was right. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Nothing in particular. I lead a busy life, Father," she leaned on the chair's arm, resting her chin against her fist. He didn't approve of something like that – he'd taught her better – and as he bristled in silence, Weiss kept her eyes locked on his. "What about you? Didn't you care to see your heiress at the hospital?"

"I, too, lead a busy life. Busier than yours, I remind you," Jacques said. "Were you distraught I did not come to see you? My deepest apologies. But I did place you on the best hospital in Atlas, under the care of the most talented doctors in the business, and paid for it out of my own pocket," he smiled at her. "My presence wouldn't have healed your pretty eye, would it?"

Weiss flinched, stopping her hand before it rose to her scar.

"No, it wouldn't have. _Thank you_ for your generosity, Father," she said tensely. "I assume you know everything that transpired the day of the showcase?"

"Let's assume I don't," Jacques waved his hand. "Fill me in, daughter."

"Of course," Weiss sat straight in her chair. "The showcase itself went splendidly. You would have been proud, I'm sure. But, there was the matter of Roman Torchwick invading the facility and wrecking everything," she raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "He stole most of what we had at display, along with some hidden away prototypes, for a bonus. He threatened the lives of our guests, not to mention my own, Winter's – and Klein's," she stopped at the last name, letting it hang for a moment. "I suppose you didn't visit him either."

"I did not," Jacques said, giving no visible reaction. "How is the old man?"

"He's recovering well," Weiss' eyes narrowed. "I wasn't able to recover what was stolen, but I stopped Torchwick. I defeated him, and now he is under Beacon's custody."

"Ah, yes," he leaned towards her. "Our Beacon friends. You forgot to mention them," he put his glass down on the table, and Weiss saw his knuckles were white around it. "They've been meddling with company matters ceaselessly for the past few days. Talking and talking about the Dust Core – that which one of them destroyed under your watch – and this _Paladin_ armor, and how destructive they are. Funny, they didn't mention you _or_ your little feat of heroism. Are you still in trouble with them?"

Weiss pursed her lips, feeling her throat go dry all of a sudden.

"I… I'm not in liberty to discuss that," she replied in a small voice. "That's what I was told."

"Is that so?" her father chortled, grabbing his glass and taking a sip. "How _convenient_. You can't tell me about your – what was it called again? – your _Semblance_ , and the serum you devised in secret to unlock it, then? That's a shame."

"I… I did unlock my Semblance," Weiss said, raising her voice little by little. "And I took down Torchwick with it, and I freed-"

" _Of course_ you made a serum. You festered in jealousy over your sister for years, wishing you were as strong as her, but you never could be," he took another sip. "So you had to get help. You were so desperate you made something to force it to happen. I'll give you credit, that was a clever feat," he smiled mockingly. "But, as always, you remain a pathetic little girl, clinging to anything that will give her some hope of being more, but always returning to where she knows she belongs."

He put the glass down forcefully, shattering its base, and the noise was like an explosion to Weiss' ears. She sat frozen in her chair, staring wide-eyed at her father as he pushed the shards away. He emptied the last drops of wine on his mouth, then tossed the glass away entirely, letting it break against the wall.

"Here's what's going to happen, then," Jacques said, his tone completely professional. "The SDC will allow Beacon to deal with the aftermath of Roman Torchwick's attack. They will retrieve our belongings and return them to their rightful owners. All the while, we will not contradict anything they say about what happened that day. Do you follow, daughter?"

"Y-yes, father."

"There are rumors about your involvement. Our guests didn't stay silent about your actions, and there is video evidence of your confrontation with Torchwick. That evidence has been appropriated and erased. As such, these rumors will remain rumors. Should any questions be asked, you will play the victim, and name Beacon as your savior. Any objections?"

"N-no, father."

"As for Beacon's pursuit against you, you won't have to worry. Should they try anything, you will have the whole power of the SDC to protect you. _If_ any of theirs approach you, you will deflect their advances and report their appearance to me. I will make sure they regret such disrespect. Understood?"

"Yes, father."

"And lastly, your Semblance. You won't ever use it again. It might as well not exist. But you will replicate that serum of yours and, with the help of a team, make a version for mass-production. You won't speak a word of the project to anyone but me and your team. Until you're finished, you won't be trusted with any other company affairs. That's your one and only job until then. After, I will evaluate your work and behavior, and ascertain whether you're still fit to be the heiress of the SDC."

Silence.

"Were my orders clear?"

"…Yes, father."

"Then that is all. Leave, and don't return unless necessary. And," he paused, looking at her in disgust. "Do try to hide that, for shame."

Weiss turned her scarred eye away.

"Yes, father."

* * *

 Jaune looked around the elevator nervously, unable to ignore all the weird looks he was receiving from the other passengers. This was just one of many times this past year he was certain he was nowhere he belonged, because other forces – benevolent or otherwise – had forced him out of his comfort zone. By now, he should be accustomed to such situations, but alas, he was not.

What _was_ his comfort zone, anyway? Sitting on a couch, eating potato chips and watching old cartoons? Yeah, that sounded nice. He should probably take a vacation soon to do just that, though it would take a long time for that to be possible, what with the Commander keeping such a close eye on him.

Was she watching him right now? He didn't put anything past her, or Beacon in general. He'd worked there long enough to know how far the organization's capacities went. Maybe there was a microscopic cam on his hoodie or his cap…

" _Seventh floor. Administration offices and Human Resources._ "

"That's me!" Jaune exclaimed, pushing through the crowd to get out. "Excuse me! Urgent business! Pizza boy coming through!"

He made it to the other side, stepping off the elevator with a huff. He didn't have much time to be relieved, as people were walking by this hallway and, just like the ones on the elevator, looking at him like he was from a foreign country, or worse, an alien.

"Right," Jaune said to himself, standing upright and checking the weight of his backpack. Everything was still in place, it seemed, so he only needed to get to his destination. "Office 708, west end. 708, west end… 708…"

He walked along the hallway, nodding politely as people passed by. If the Commander was watching, he wanted her to know he was very polite and, more importantly, _extremely inconspicuous_. This was a mission he would finish with perfect grades – not that Beacon missions had grades, and he was thankful for that, because he and grades did _not_ go well together…

"708!" he stopped before a door and, after fixing his hair and making sure there was nothing stuck between his teeth, knocked. "Pizza delivery!"

A few seconds passed, then the door opened. "I didn't order any- _Jaune_?"

Weiss looked different. She was wearing business clothes, just like during the showcase and the whole mess that followed, but her hair was loose, obscuring the left side of her face almost completely. Not only that, she seemed… exhausted, and not in a normal way. Jaune had seen her in pretty bad situations already, but even then, she'd always shown some strength. Now…

"Yeah, that's… that's me," Jaune said, struggling with his words. He'd expected this meeting to be awkward, but he was not prepared for _this_ , not at all. "Agent Arc, at your service."

"You – get inside, before someone sees you!" Weiss grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside, slamming the door closed after him. "You idiot! If Father learns you, a Beacon agent, walked inside his building…"

She stopped talking and walked away, going to sit behind a desk at the corner of the room. Jaune looked around. Weiss' office was just like he'd imagined it to be – boring, but in a professional way, which he guessed was a good thing.

"Can I sit?" Jaune asked.

"What?" Weiss looked up at him in disbelief. "Yes, don't stand around. What are you even doing here?"

"Well, _officially,_ I am delivering your pizza," he said, sitting at the other end of the desk.

" _Officially_ , I did not order any pizza," Weiss looked him up and down, no doubt taking in his fake uniform. "You do play the part rather well, I must say."

"Thanks?" he had a feeling that was not a compliment. "And actually, you did order pizza. Check your computer."

Weiss looked at him doubtfully, then did as he asked. A moment later, her gaze returned to him, and though there was only one eye he could see, the anger it displayed was enough to make him regret some of his most recent decisions.

"You _hacked_ my schedule? Invaded the SDC network?"

"You make it sound like I'm some evil criminal! I needed some way to get inside, and what better excuse than a pizza delivery? It's a classic!" Jaune said. He took his backpack and opened it. "If it makes it any better, I did bring actual pizza."

He took out the package and set it on the table, willfully ignoring the scalding look he received because of it. He opened it to reveal a pepperoni pizza, of which he promptly took a slice.

"It's delicious, I assure you," he said, taking a bite. "It's from a place at the corner of the street, you must know it. And you know what they say – always support local businesses!"

"I'm a vegetarian," Weiss stated sourly.

"Oh. Well, it's the sentiment that matters, right?" Jaune gulped, putting the slice back into the package and closing it. "I'll… remember that for next time."

From the look she gave him, he was fairly certain there wasn't going to be a next time.

"Nice hair, by the way," he mumbled.

"What are you here for, Jaune? The truth, this time, and no sidetracking," Weiss demanded. "Is it about the charges against me?"

"Yes and no," Jaune said, straightening up. This was a serious matter, as Goodwitch had stressed to him, and he was going to treat it with the proper respect. "There were never any charges brought against you. No improper conduct of Semblance research, no interference with Beacon activities… nothing. You're a good citizen with an impeccable track record when it comes to the law."

Jaune hung back, waiting for a satisfied response, at the least. Instead, Weiss seemed disappointed, almost _angry_ at the news.

"That's not right," she said. "Goodwitch arrested me, with fair cause. I surrendered myself after Torchwick."

"And she let you walk, remember?" Jaune frowned. "I mean, the Commander had ground to realize your arrest, but she chose not to. She didn't tell why – maybe she changed her mind after you helped her, or maybe she felt… uh… sorry for you, after…" he shrugged. "Effectively, your arrest never happened. You were under custody for, what, twenty minutes? You can just forget that ever happened."

"How considerate of her," Weiss said dryly. "I suppose there are conditions to this leniency?"

"That's one way to look at it," Jaune replied. "There are no laws against you revealing what happened that day, but Beacon would really appreciate if you kept your Semblance a secret," he blinked. "I mean, just think what would happen if everyone knew superpowers are real… the mass panic and all that… though that would make good PR for you in particular, I guess…"

"Thank you for the business advice, Jaune," she said. "If I did talk… there would be consequences, wouldn't it? The personal kind?"

"I don't know," Jaune looked around, making sure there were no cameras watching them. "Between you and me… it would be bad if you went public, but not _that_ bad… I don't know if you've heard, but there's this girl – I think it's a girl – from this small town in Vale, and she's a superhero… like, an actual superhero with actual superpowers, just like you. People there know about her, and news have been spreading, so… sooner or later, the whole world is going to be in on it," he paused, remembering the possibility of Commander Goodwitch being listening to him right now. "But, like I said, we'd really appreciate it if you worked with us to keep Semblances a secret for as long as possible. Can you do that? Please?"

Weiss didn't answer him. She turned her head to look at her computer, seemingly deep in thought, and with the new angle, Jaune was able to see the rest of her face. He gasped quietly when he saw her scar – the Commander had mentioned something about it, but seeing it in real life…

"What?" Weiss turned towards him, flicking her head to cover her eye again. "Don't you know it's rude to stare, Arc?"

"Sorry!" Jaune said. "It's just… your scar is super badass, that's all."

Weiss's expression went from surprised to angry. "Don't mock me," she said, getting up. "Thank you for the visit, and for clearing things up regarding Torchwick. Tell your superior I won't do anything to disappoint her. Now kindly get out of my building."

"Come on, Weiss, I wasn't mocking you! I really meant it."

"Yes, yes, now get out before I call security," Weiss said, walking past him to open the door. She gestured at the hallway outside. "Go on."

Jaune got up grudgingly, taking his pizza and backpack. He walked into the hallway, but instead of keeping going, he stopped to look back at Weiss.

"I don't get it. I thought you'd be happy you weren't in trouble with Beacon," he said. "Why do you need to have a problem with that?"

"Excuse me?" Weiss stepped towards him. "Who do you think you are, lecturing me?"

"I'm Jaune Arc. I don't know if you've noticed, but I screw things up a lot. _A lot_. So, yeah, I am lecturing you," he rolled his eyes. "When I make a mistake, I always kick myself over it, but then I'm given a second chance – probably undeservingly – and I'm _happy_ about it. It means I get to take advantage of what I learned from that mistake and not make it ever again," he paused. "I think you'd be much happier if you did the same thing."

"Do you really learn with your mistakes, Arc?" Weiss crossed her arms. "You trusted me, and every time, you paid for it. And yet here you are, trusting me to cooperate with Beacon, and you expect that it won't go just like before."

"That's the thing, Weiss," Jaune grinned. "I don't think trusting you was ever a mistake."

"You…" Weiss turned away. "You're unbelievable, Jaune Arc."

"In a good way?" he prodded.

"You'd better hope so," she raised a hand. "Good luck with your future endeavors. I'll… keep what you said in mind."

"Great!" Jaune's smile widened. "Maybe we should exchange numbers, you know, to keep in contact, maybe arrange a day to talk or-"

Weiss went back into her office, closing the door on his face.

"Right," Jaune shrugged sheepishly, putting his hands inside his pockets. "Someday, Mister Arc. Keep hope alive."

He turned and walked away from the office, entering an elevator going down to the ground floor. He didn't get the girl, but he completed his mission flawlessly, and he had some amazing pizza in his backpack which he could eat tonight and tomorrow morning.

Today had been a good day.

* * *

Klein was still sleeping. He'd been sleeping every day she'd come to visit him. By this point, she was starting to believe the world was conspiring against her, just so she could feel even worse than she already was. Maybe that was good. Glynda Goodwitch had mentioned consequences – maybe this was what she was talking about.

The doctors assured her he was making a steady recovery. In a week or two, he would be well enough to walk and hopefully leave the hospital. Weiss trusted them, but it was difficult to stay optimistic when the only friend you had in the whole world couldn't even have a conversation with you.

 _It would help if he had someone that talked to him_ , one of the nurses had told her. Weiss wasn't sure whether she had said it for Klein's sake, or hers. She did look like she needed help, though she wasn't proud of it, and… she did need to talk.

So she sat down beside him, held his hand, and talked.

"Hi. It's me. Weiss. Checking in on you, again. You look better… you'll be out of this bed in no time."

"Winter came to see you too, right? Those flowers are from her. The ones you used to plant in the garden, way back then. I… feel bad now, to be honest. I should have thought of something like that. Instead I just keep coming here to stare at you."

"Not today, I guess."

"I… I just hope you get better soon, okay? Everything's been a mess lately, and I could really use some help from time to time. Just a friend to talk to would be nice."

"Father's having me work on my serum. I don't think you know about it – it's something I invented on my own, to unlock my powers. And now he wants a new, easily replicated version. He wants to sell it, of course. That's what it's always about with him."

"Klein, I'm scared. I'm _terrified_. I know I can't do it, it's not right. Look what Torchwick did with the Paladin, with something _we_ _made_ – and I'm supposed to kickstart a new market for _superpowers_. That's not right. It could ruin the whole world, for all we know."

"I guess it sounds like an easy decision, when I say it out loud. Just disobey him. Tell him I won't do it. But you know it's not easy at all. It's never worked like that. You know him, and…"

"…and you know me."

"…It _is_ an easy decision. He's made my life hell. Nothing would make me happier than to leave him and the SDC behind. But that's the thing… I'm not quite sure it's the right thing to do."

"I'm scared I might screw everything up. Again."

"…Sorry. I unloaded on you, didn't I? I didn't mean to do that, everything just came pouring out. I'm very sorry. I'll visit you again soon, and hopefully not do the same thing again."

She started to get up – and felt his hand squeeze hers.

"Klein? Are you awake?"

His eyes remained shut, but he smiled – and that smile was all she needed to know that everything was going to be okay, one way or the other. Klein had taken a blast to the chest to protect someone he loved, and he'd lived to tell the tale and smile about it.

Everything was going to be okay. She didn't need to be scared.

* * *

"Commander Goodwitch? I'm… here to make my report?" Jaune poked his head inside the dark room, feeling more than a little foolish. "This is the room, right? Not the usual place… Kinda creepy, actually."

Beacon fired people just like any other company, right? They didn't shoot them in the back of the head in a dark room or anything like it, surely. He hadn't found any evidence of that… though he also hadn't found evidence against it.

"Yeah…" he gulped, backing away slowly. "Wrong room, probably…"

Suddenly, he felt a hand behind his back and was shoved into the room. The lights came on and the door closed behind him, and when he turned, he saw Glynda Goodwitch standing there with a stern look on her face.

"Do you ever look yourself in the mirror, Mister Arc, and think – yes, this is the attitude and posture of a proper Beacon agent?" she asked.

"I don't know what that question means," Jaune frowned. "Is this like a test or something? I am not prepared, if that's the case."

"That's about the answer I expected to hear," she shook her head. "Report, agent."

"O-okay. I made contact with Weiss – excuse me, Miss Schnee - seven days ago, and gave her our message. Since then, I've been monitoring her, like you instructed, and she hasn't done anything out of the ordinary," Jaune said. "She spends a lot of time inside her office at the main SDC building, and visits Mr. Sieben at least once every day. I don't think she's going public anytime soon, if ever. And that's all I have to report."

He joined his hands behind his back and smiled, for good measure. The Commander didn't give him much mind, making a slight nod and walking away from the door towards the center of the room, where was a digital table.

"Good. I had my doubts, but I'm glad Miss Schnee turned out to be trustworthy. We'll continue to keep an eye on her, of course, but we can afford to pay less attention from now on, I believe," she said. "Don't you agree, Director?"

"With everything you said, Glynda. You are, as always, an excellent judge of character."

Jaune nearly jumped out of his own skin, suddenly noticing there was someone else in the room – and not just anyone, the Director of Beacon himself, Ozpin. Had he always been there? Jaune could swear he'd been alone with Goodwitch, but…

"Good work, agent Arc," the Director said, stepping over to him and patting him on the shoulder. "It's always nice to see such excellent procedure by young minds like you."

"T-thank you, sir…" Jaune looked towards the door. "I guess I am free to go now…? There are, uh, files that need to be… digitalized… yeah, that's it, very important work…"

"I'm afraid you'll have to stay a while longer, agent," Ozpin walked around him, inspecting him like a hawk. All the while, Jaune was aware of Goodwitch watching from afar, with an almost perverse smile on her lips. "I flew over here just to talk to you, after all. It would be a waste of my time if you just went back to your computer to resume your game of Minesweeper."

"It's actually Galaga, sir. That's what I was playing," Jaune gulped. "Not that it matters…"

"Right," Ozpin shrugged. "I do prefer Minesweeper, but I won't hold it against you."

The Director turned his back to him and walked a few steps away. Jaune looked at Goodwitch, sure that this was some kind of retribution for all the grief he'd given her, but she looked rather serious now.

"Why would you want to talk to me, sir? I'm... not important at all," he said. "I'm just a rookie. There's nothing special about me."

"I don't much care whether you're a rookie or a commander. I like to speak with all my agents," Ozpin said, stopping in his track. "And you should give yourself some credit. You did manage to join our ranks, didn't you? It's not just anyone who can be a Beacon agent, Mister Arc," he paused. "You should be proud of yourself."

Jaune froze. Was the Director saying what he thought he was saying? Because if he did… Well, he'd had a good run with Beacon, he supposed, and it was the Director himself who was doing the honors now. There were worse ways to be fired.

"Agent Arc, Glynda tells me you have an unfortunate habit of… how did she put it… fail miserably at everything you try to accomplish?" Ozpin turned around. "Is that true?"

"Well, kind of," Jaune said. "A little bit of an exaggeration, but yes. I _am_ a rookie, sir."

"Indeed."

Ozpin leaned towards him, locking eyes with him, and an otherworldly feeling took hold of Jaune – like the Director was looking at his very soul, seeing everything that he was and could ever be, submerging it in the hottest fires to see if it would last – and then the feeling passed, and Ozpin was smiling at him, like they were old friends.

"Indeed. You _are_ an excellent judge of character, Glynda," the Director said. "Agent Arc, if you would put aside your Galaga for a while more, I'd like to fill you in on some… details about our organization."

"Uh… sure," Jaune nodded. It's not like he could refuse.

"Get a bottle of water from the hallway," Ozpin advised. "You might need it in a bit."

"Yes, sir…"

Jaune backed out of the room slowly. As he closed the door, the last thing he saw was Goodwitch shaking her head at the Director, as if to say – _Really? How did we get here?_

Jaune shared the sentiment.

* * *

"Miss Schnee! Weiss! Please stop!"

Weiss cursed under her breath and picked up the pace, dodging the other pedestrians in the sidewalk. She heard the steps behind her, and the clicking of a camera – why had she chosen to walk back to the SDC after visiting Klein? She knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, but she could have avoided it longer.

"Miss Schnee, please, it will only be a moment!"

Weiss stopped and turned around, doing her best scowl. It wasn't that hard, since she really was frustrated at the situation. The reporter, a woman she recognized from the local Atlas 5 channel, caught up to her quickly, along with her cameraman and crew.

"Is this really necessary?" Weiss asked, looking towards the camera in annoyance. "We're in the middle of the street. People need to get to work – _I_ need to get to work."

"We won't hold you for long," the reporter assured. "I'd like to ask you a few questions pertaining to the Torchwick incident which occurred in an SDC facility, eleven days ago. You were there, weren't you? Do you have anything to say about that?"

"Yes, obviously I was there. I was conducting a private meeting of the highest importance to the company – which is why, as Beacon has concluded, he chose that day to target us," Weiss said. "It was a very difficult day, that's what I have to say. Is that good enough for you?"

"Some of other victims we interviewed mentioned you had a confrontation with the criminal himself? Is that true, Miss Schnee?"

Weiss gave her a stifled laugh. "Right. I went hand-to-hand with Roman Torchwick," she rolled her eyes. "Like I said, it was a very difficult day, for everyone involved. That doesn't excuse the ridiculous things some people have been saying, but I do understand where they're coming from. I am very sorry people were put in a situation where they felt afraid for their lives. We were lucky to have Commander Glynda Goodwitch of Beacon to save us."

"Okay. How did you get the scar, then?"

Weiss' first instinct was to glare at the woman. Her second was to tell the truth.

She didn't owe anyone anything. Beacon would prefer she remain quiet, but like Jaune had told her, they were all on a clock. She wouldn't be revealing any explosive secrets, really, just quickening a process that was already well under motion.

And her father? She could imagine the look of shock an anger on his face when she learned she had defied him, gone completely against his orders. It would be so, so sweet, getting the jump on him after so many years of enduring his abuse…

That's what she wanted, but not what she was going to do. One selfish act with repercussions for the whole world, so she could get a short thrill and a sense of self-importance. Maybe before, she would have done it.

But not today.

"Lab accident," she said, flicking her hair away from her eye. "Get a good angle. I am told that it is, and excuse my language, _super badass_. I must admit, I couldn't agree more," she turned away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to return from my break."

The reporter followed her, trying to get more out of her, but Weiss ignored her. She'd already said everything she needed to say.

* * *

_"Sister, I'm sorry I haven't seen you since the hospital. Although, I don't think you want to talk to me. That's why I haven't reached out in person, and since you've been ignoring my calls… well, it's safe to assume I was correct in my assumption._

_Regardless, I hope you listen to this message, sooner rather later. My offer still stands. Whenever you need me, I'll be there. I'll whisk you away from the SDC, or wherever you are._

_I'll give you a home where you can start anew. I'll help you find whatever you're looking for – whether you want to stay in the business, or branch out into something entirely new – maybe relight that lovely voice of yours? I know you still think about that sometimes, and unlike Father, I will support you._

_I should have done this sooner. Like you, I was afraid of making a mistake I couldn't correct, and for that, I cannot express how sorry I am. I hope you'll forgive me. But from now, I won't be afraid anymore._

_Whatever you decide – whenever you decide – I will be there._

_Just reach out."_

* * *

Weiss walked into his office, not caring to appear particularly defiant, not this time. She wasn't here to make a grand gesture. She was here to say her piece, and that was it.

"Father," she walked up to his desk, but did not sit down. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

Jacques looked up, and his lips parted into a self-satisfied smile. "For you, always, my dear," he said. "I caught that little interview you gave to Channel 5. Craven reporters, eh? But you did well, dear, just like I told you."

"I didn't do it for you, if that's what you think. But that's not what I'm here to talk about," Weiss said. "I'm here to tell you I won't work on the Semblance serum. To recreate it, especially to be mass produced, would be a careless, selfish action, and no amount of money or prestige can change that. If you choose to continue with that research, you'll have to find someone else to helm it," she paused. "Of course, they'll have a much harder time figuring out the formula, as I have deleted my own copy of it and purged every trace of it from the network."

For a long while, he just stared at her, no emotion showing on his face. Then, his eyes widened and his cheeks turned red, and he rose from his chair, knocking it over backwards.

"How _dare_ you," he said, restrained fury bubbling under his measured words. "I gave you an order, not a request. You _will_ replicate your Serum. You might have deleted every file you had, but you remember the formula by heart, I know it!"

"Do you, now?" Weiss tilted her head sideways. "I disagree. I can't remember any of it."

"Brat!" he shouted. "You are my heiress – my daughter! You do what I say, no questions asked! I don't care what Beacon has told you – I know this is their work, I KNOW! – it does _NOT_ matter to this company!"

"Starting today, it matters," Weiss said. "I will not stand by and watch you drag my name through the mud. I don't care how many titles and awards the we receive, I don't care how much money we make, I don't care what political points we get – the SDC will not be responsible for any more evil in the world. Understood?"

She saw it in slow motion – the stiffening of his arm, the narrowing of his eyes, his hand swinging towards her face – and then it colliding against her glyph. Jacques screamed in pain, stumbling backwards as he held his hand.

Weiss put one foot on the chair in front of her and leaned towards him. "That was your warning to not try anything about my position as heiress. Do you understand?"

"You…" he looked up at her, shaking in anger – or fear. "How dare you…"

"Good. You understand. We are finished, then," she turned her back to him and went to the door. "Oh, and father," she looked back at him, smiling. "Stop trembling like a child, it's pathetic. You're a Schnee. Start acting like one."

And with that said, she closed the door on him and left.

* * *

**WEISS SCHNEE WILL RETURN IN**

**THE HUNT**


	9. You know the drill, folks

"The prototype is ready, then?"

"The prototype, general? Why, I am way past that. I've made quite a number of advancements these last months… The AI is nearly complete, the physical model itself has been perfected… There's only one obstacle keeping me from completion."

Ironwood stopped before the metal tube, examining it curiously.

"The energy source, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, we knew that would be a problem from the very beginning… The energy required for long-time sustenance is, to be frank, _impossible_ to find in this day and age."

"Not anymore, Doctor. There has been a breakthrough. I witnessed it with my own eyes – a new way to harvest Dust, endless, unadulterated… It will change the whole world, and give you the means to finish your work."

"That's… that's splendid news, General! When can I get my hands on this new technology?"

"That's a complicated matter. I will pull some strings, make some deals… In time, my friend," Ironwood smiled. "Trust me, no one wants it working more than me. So, how about you give me a little demonstration? See how it's progressed since the last time?"

"Of course, General. But… well, it is a _her_ … I know it's a silly thing to worry about, but if we expect her to blend among people…"

"Yes, my apologies. Go ahead, Doctor."

The Doctor pushed a button, and the metal tube spun around, opening in a spiral. Smoke released from within it, and at its center, a small figure raised a hand to their forehead.

" _Salutations_!"

* * *

Jaune sat down on the bench, trying to pick his jaw back up from the floor, but he was finding it quite difficult to do so.

Evil monsters from another dimension with the objective to eradicate all mankind. And he was going to fight them.

What the hell. He just wanted to stop bad guys from doing bad stuff. Was that too much to ask?

He heard someone sit beside him on the bench, but didn't care to look. It would take a few days for him to recover from the shock.

"Are you okay?" a feminine voice asked. "You look a little sick."

"Do I?" he blinked several times. "I just heard the craziest thing…"

"Oh. I see. Was it about our… unfortunate invaders?"

Jaune turned to look and found the last thing he expected – a girl, as tall as he was, with hair as red as the brightest fires, and with eyes like emeralds. She had a little smile on her lips, a smile that he knew would stay with him even if they never saw each other again.

"Y-yeah," he said. "You know too?"

"Yes. I was quite shocked when they told me, too," she looked up sheepishly. " _Although_ … I was much younger. Much, much younger."

"Really? Like, fourteen? Fifteen?" Jaune guessed. "How long have you been with Beacon?"

"Wait," she frowned. "You… don't know who I am?"

"No…? Should I?"

Her smile returned, and he didn't quite remember much after that – except for her name.

* * *

**JAUNE ARC WILL RETURN IN**

**THE HUNT**

* * *

Torchwick really disliked these Beacon vans. So spacious, but he was afforded little movement, with his hands and ankles chained to the bench he had been forced to sit on. Not only that, but he was totally in the dark – at least last time, there had been a light, and a couple agents to keep him company. Now he was blind and alone.

The start of Goodwitch's punishment, surely.

He doubted he would ever see daylight again. He might have been the most dangerous criminal on the planet for decades, but he had to admit to himself now, that time was over. He had escaped Beacon once – never again. Not only had he lost Neo and half his people, but his reputation was in the gutter. No one would be coming for him.

Which is why he was so perplexed when the van slowly came to a halt and he heard the driver and his partner on the front talking to each other with urgent voices. Surely, Neo hadn't escaped?

"Hello, Roman."

A sudden light caught him off-guard, making him turn his face away. After a moment, he was able to look at it – a small flame, hovering above an open palm. Beside it, a face half-shrouded in darkness, dark locks falling over a feminine shoulder. An amber eye stared at him, locking him in place.

"Apologies for the surprise," the woman said, speaking as if each word that left her mouth was a delight to her. "They will figure out there was outside interference soon and come to check on you. We don't have much time."

"What the hell? Who are you?" Torchwick asked. "What are you doing here? How did you stop the van – _how did you get in_?"

"That's a lot of questions, Roman. Calm down," she smiled. "A magician never reveals her secrets," she moved her fingers, and the flame danced around and in-between them like a dragonfly. "I'm here to inform you did very well with the Schnee job. Nearly flawless execution. If it weren't for the superheroine, thieves all around the world would be singing your praises. Alas, it was not meant to be – my fault."

"Excuse me?" he hissed. "What do you mean by that?"

"I set you up, Roman. The information you received, with the date of the SDC showcase and all the goods lined up for the taking… that was me. I knew you couldn't resist the temptation," she said. "You're wondering why I did that. No, I did not want a piece of the treasure, and no, I'm not here to exact revenge on you for failing. Think of it like a test."

"A test?" Torchwick snorted. "What, you're forming a crew?"

"Something like it," she nodded. "I have big plans in mind, Roman, and I will need someone with your abilities at my side. You proved you're good enough. You passed the test. Now, you're in."

"What if I don't want in?"

She smiled at him. "Remember this moment for later, Roman, when you'll be glad I am a patient woman," she got up. "I won't be releasing you today. It will take a while, but I promise you, the day will come when you'll be free again, when I need you to be. Until then, you will keep quiet. If you tell Beacon about our conversation, and I will know if you do…"

She snapped her fingers, and the flame went out.

"Wait!" Torchwick called. "I don't get it! I'm in, okay, but what are we doing? A heist? Are we taking down the government or something? What's my role in this? You can't just leave me here like this!"

"Oh, Roman."

He felt a hand on his cheek, hot like a furnace, but he found he couldn't move his head away, even as his brain screamed at him to.

"You'll know what you need when you need to know."


End file.
